


get it hot, hit it hard

by gottalovev



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blacksmithing, Blood and Violence, Evil Grant Ward, First Kiss, First Time, Hydra Grant Ward, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Slow Build, Switching, Torture, less games of thrones more IM1, no need to know GOT, tourney, trial and execution, wildfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 86,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottalovev/pseuds/gottalovev
Summary: Anthony is unexpectedly brought back to Winterfell to be King in the North following his parent’s death. Frankly, he would have preferred continuing to work on his special projects - such as anonymously participating in tourneys as the Iron Man, and forging his special steel - instead of being given a crown. As for Captain Steven Rogers, he doesn't quite know how to deal with this unconventional new king.Unfortunately, their lives are shaken again when Hydra strikes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic uses the Game of Thrones setting -adapted sometimes!- but knowledge of the series or the ASOIF books isn't needed in my opinion (ETA: confirmed by a reader in comments!! =D ). I just wanted to make Tony the Stark in Winterfell, after that it's pretty much a fantasy AU!
> 
> Note the tags: I needed a competent Hydra villain for this story, and used Grant Ward. If you prefer him redeemable, I wish to say upfront that this story isn't for you (or pretend it's an alternate!)
> 
>    
> I had the joy of getting art for this fic through the Captain America - Iron Man BigBang of 2017 by the fantastic MassiveSpaceWren. Her gorgeous art is embedded in the fic, but can also be found on [tumblr](http://massivespacewren.tumblr.com/post/167967761124/my-art-for-one-of-my-cap-im-big-bangs-2017-the). Please go tell her how amazing it is!

The breathing of his poor horse is getting labored, but Steven pushes it anyway; a little effort and they'll be back in Winterfell. The mare knows it, too. She gives a burst of energy as they round the last bend in the road before the stretch that leads to the moat and the castle. The road is busy and they weave between chariots and other riders. When Steven enters the castle's walls, the courtyard is full as expected with the funeral. God, the funeral. Steven went up North trying to stop the skirmishes, foolishly thinking he could prove himself worthy of his new rank. He stayed away too long and now King Howard and Queen Maria are dead. Their carriage had an accident when coming back from a visit to the Twins, but there have been whispers of foul play. Or at least that's what Steven heard in the last inn he'd stopped at to sleep a few hours (he was almost falling off his horse with fatigue). And... well, he had to change his mount or risk killing it. He hates pushing horses this much, but his place is at court under the circumstances. 

The more he approaches the stables, the more people Steven has in his path, slowing him down. Judging by colors and banners, visitors are from all over the realm. King Howard had been a severe but appreciated monarch, mind like quicksilver and a knack for strategy in battle that had benefited multiple allies. 

"Captain Rogers!" Steven hears. He smiles when he sees Peter the stable boy making his way towards him. The boy is more skipping than running, his brown curls bouncing. He grabs the reins of Steven's horse and beams. Peter always watches the practice drills and tells everyone that will listen about his dream to become a knight when he grows up. He's a sweet kid. "You're back! Did you have a nice ride?"

"Yes, Peter, thank you." 

It's been a long journey, but uneventful. He passed only a few travelers on the road until Last Hearth, and if anyone had bad intentions, they sure didn't show it. Being an armed soldier on a war horse tends to give him space when he wants it. Steven barely stopped and rode all night, and now he's so tired his eyes and head hurt.

Peter is leading the horse to the stables; the poor thing's fur is matted with sweat, and Steven feels guilty.

"Give her a good rub down, okay?"

"For sure," Pete says.

"Did I miss everything?" Steven worries, looking towards the keep. If he strains, he can perceive the murmur of voice. He should have made a better time.

"I'm afraid the ceremony is over. The banquet should start soon though." 

"Oh." 

It's disappointing. Steven is not a particularly devout man, but it would have been a show of respect towards King Howard and Queen Maria to be at the ceremony. Even more so for the heir. The banquet is still formal, but as a soldier - even a captain - Steven's place isn't with the nobles.

"You have time to change," Peter says, eying Steven's travel-stained tunic with critical eyes.

He is right, Steven is a mess. He will have only one chance at a first impression with the heir and his entourage, so he should clean up a little. But that's trivial, maybe they need him elsewhere. One man will know.

"Surely Commander Rhodes-"

"He's not expecting you today, of what I heard," Peter interrupts.

It's borderline insulting. "I tried."

Washing up the grit of the road is on the other hand definitely an appealing idea. Steven hurries to the casern, that he finds almost deserted. Everyone must be security detail; he'll see to join them soon.

**

 

The last week has been a daze, and Anthony is just getting his bearings back. He supposes that it is normal, or even appropriate to be numb after losing both of your parents to a freak accident.

Anthony had been plucked unceremoniously from his chosen lifestyle of a dissipated prince in Casterly Rock and rushed to Winterfell. One day he was among other bored and rich fellows, several of them wards like him (also known as hostages); the next he was shoehorned as the leader of the North just because of his birthright.

He'd known the time for all of that shit would come, but it should have been in decades. Anthony was supposed to party and invent and fight and sleep around for years more before settling down and taking on those responsibilities. But... he's always been bad at doing as expected from him, at least in his late father's eyes. Why should it be different now? Anthony refuses to be rushed into being the ideal heir to the perfect monarch that had to bring prosperity and safety to his people. Fuck this: he's been back for a week, it will wait a little.

He needs to fall back on his feet, first. Check out what awaits him. Look things over with Rhodes, his childhood buddy who is now the official Commander of his army, and ask Jarvis when he arrives. He spent years at head of the household staff, Jarvis will undoubtedly be a great resource to know what is going on in the castle (and way more than that). Younger, Anthony contemplated becoming a blacksmith or an alchemist... when he thought he had control on his future; in time he understood that being the only son of a King left him very little options. Which doesn't stop Anthony from loving doing experiments and mix chemicals, and everything that goes with designing and building war machines, precise weaponry or equipment for the war horses.

Unfortunately, at the moment he's not in his smithy, but instead in a full banquet room. Also? Anthony is bored _out of his skull_. He's not even entertained by the obligatory banner men, lords or vassals or whom ever kissing ass under the pretense of offering their condolences.

As it is wont to happen when he's in a foul mood, Anthony drinks more than he eats, keeping an eye on the entertainment. He also distracts himself by winking at the maids who are already sending him coy looks - property and mourning period be damned. It isn't a fun evening, far from it, but it's tolerable until it's not anymore. He doesn't know what triggers the change of mood. It might be one too many toast boasting Howard's various qualities (no flaws for the dead) but suddenly Antony's act meant to convey that he's got this under control is in danger to splinter. It hits Anthony with crystal clarity that he's alone to play this game now. That his father and mother are dead and not coming back.

Anthony itches to retire to his apartments, or better the laboratories or the smithy, to lose himself in some designs, or build something with his own hands. He has a crossbow he's in the process of redesigning to make more powerful. That would be a good change of air, and Anthony could fire on straw men to boot, work out the restlessness. Distracted, he brings food to his mouth and is blindsided by the sweet taste of a fig; they were his mother's favorites, probably because they are so rare here in the North. Anthony may have butted head with Howard while simultaneously trying to win his approval, but his mom had been an angel send down on this earth to deal with the both of them. Anthony abruptly gets up, sending his chair screeching back. That draws every person in the Hall's attention onto himself. He musters a smile he can feel sit fake on his face.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, esteemed guests. It's been a long and exhausting day, as you surely understand. I will retire to my apartments, but please continue enjoying this evening, as the King and Queen my parents would have wished. My most thankful thoughts are with every one of you. I appreciate your support in this and in everything. If you want to take advantage of your presence in Winterfell to discuss State matters, please take an appointment with my advisor. Counselor Obadiah Stane and I will try to accommodate you. Again, thank you for your comfort in these sad times, and I will always be grateful that you were by my side on this day."

And that should do it, Anthony supposes. He witnesses nods and even one or two olds crones dabbing at their eyes like hypocrites. Obadiah looks pleased that Anthony passed his message, so it's a good little parting speech. Hopefully, he can now avoid every person in the room for the foreseeable future, or more realistically until tomorrow.

James stood up as he did, gleaming in his polished armor and gray cape, and now escorts him out to the corridor leading to Anthony's chambers.

"Are you okay?" Rhodes asks.

"No," Anthony says, surprising himself with the honest answer. "I'll be, though. It was too much."

"I understand."

They are walking towards his rooms and Anthony's is about to tell Rhodey that he wants to go to the smithy instead - he feels like hitting something repeatedly until he's not thinking anymore - when someone coughs to get their attention. He looks up, annoyed, to see a big blond fellow, looking at him apologetically. Anthony hasn't met him yet, he would have noticed. The man is gorgeous, broad and with fair hair and very blue eyes, but Anthony's not in the mood to for pleasantries right now.

He's about to say so, being a shitty host for sure, but to his surprise it's Rhodey who speaks up.

"Steven! I didn't know you were back, you made fast time." Rhodes looks happy to see the man, at least.

"Yes, I just arrived. Too late nonetheless," Steven says, hands clenching open and closed with nerves. That's a man used to a sword, Anthony realizes. "I am very sorry for your loss, Your Highness. I tried everything in my power to be here for the ceremony."

"Thank you. And it's not a problem."

Steven looks at the floor, but at the way he pinches his mouth, it seems like a problem to him.

"And you'd be?" Anthony asks, curious. He can't help how his eyes travel on Steven's form, though he's not certain the man catches his interest. Rhodes sure does and immediately intervenes.

"My mistake. Your Highness, this is Ser Steven Rogers, captain in your armies. Our most esteemed and best soldier, a great leader."

The praise makes the big guy blush crimson.

"You are too kind, Commander, and give me far too much credit. I'm at your service, Your Highness," he says with a bow.

The blush is delicious and yes, Anthony would love to have a man like that at his service. He must prod Rhodey later, try to know if that's a possibility with the man in question. He can be persuasive, but it's always easier if there's already a leaning. As if he senses that his mind is going towards the gutter, Rhodey makes a face, and Anthony smirks. His friend still knows him well, even after all of those years apart.

"Thank you, Captain," Anthony says. "Where were you at?"

"North of the Wall," Ser Rogers answers. "There have been a lot of skirmishes with the Wildlings. But I should have been here, to protect the king."

"Nothing you could have done, Steven," Rhodey says gently. "We must debrief on the situation up North later."

"I'd be interested in hearing that," Anthony says.

And it's not - only - because the storyteller is gorgeous. Anthony's heard strange tales about what goes on beyond the wall, and he's curious to learn more.

"If you can get up," Rhodey teases. "By eight, in the war room."

"Not a problem," Anthony says. He probably won't go to bed at all.

They part, after Steven does a last bow, and Anthony steers his and Rhode's path towards the smithy. As soon as they are out of hearing range - at least Anthony supposes it isn't a coincidence - Rhodey speaks up.

"Tony, no."

Anthony laughs genuinely for the first time in days. Rhodey is one of three people on this Earth who dares give him that nickname, and he loves that they are still close enough for it. But what's hilarious is the way Rhodey says it, in tone but also with body language. It screams of weariness as if he knows Anthony is one bad decision away from doing something outrageous.

"What do you mean, no? I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I'm not kidding," Rhodey says. "Steven isn't someone you can toy with, bed and then discard. He's a good man."

"What, I don't deserve a good man?" Anthony teases. "He's gorgeous, Rhodey. And if he isn't opposed in having a bit of fun, who would it hurt?"

"You don't know him. He's got a gentle soul."

Anthony rolls his eyes. "Come on. He can't look like that, be captain in my armies and not have lived a little." 

"You'd be surprised," Rhodey says with a sigh. "He's not high born, but his mother arranged a betrothal with a girl from your mother's entourage when they were very young. His promised, Peggy Carter, either joined the service of a princess from Highgarden or became a spy for your father, possibly even both. The story varies depending on whom you listen too. I am not certain, frankly. What's for sure, the arrangement fell through. I fear Steven might still be heartbroken." 

Anthony hums and finds out the information isn't deterring him the slightest. "I see." 

"I implore you," Rhodey says. 

"You talk as if I'll attack the poor man," Anthony says, shaking his head. "What's the harm in flirting? If he isn't interested, he can say so." 

"You'll make sure he knows he's not obligated?" 

Anthony splutters, outraged at the implication. "What? I hope you're not serious right now. I never had to force anyone!" 

The mere idea of forcing himself on someone makes his skin crawl in disgust.

"Of course not. Not voluntarily, or even by omission or implicitly. But you're the king, now, Tony. People might do things because they think it's expected. I know you would not take advantage. But please be very clear about choices, might it be with Steven, a chamber maid or a high born Lady who responds to your advances." 

"Of course," Anthony grumbles. 

He can't say Rhodey's fears are unfounded, he knows the domestics could get that impression. That concern was drilled into him frequently, and he knows to be careful about those things. Anthony just thinks it's preposterous that Rogers, who is a grown man and a seasoned warrior, would feel intimidated or pressured by him, even if he's a blushing virgin. Even more unbelievable if he's that honorable, in fact.

Anyway, he can't work on the project of bedding the delicious Ser Steven Rogers until at least the following day; Anthony won't lose time and mental resources worrying about it just yet. 

"Why aren't we going to your chambers?" Rhodey asks when they take a turn left towards the central court instead of continuing further in the keep. 

"Because I will forge a sword." 

"Forge a sword. Before bed." 

Anthony grins. "Who ever talked about bed?" 

The movement that accompanies Rhodey's eye roll is so exaggerated, Anthony worries he'll get a crick in his neck from the force of it. 

"Don't complain and do your job of guarding me if you insist. Or even better, let me do what I want. You go to bed." 

"You know I can't leave you alone," Rhodey says. "Not anymore."

Suspicion of foul play in his parent's death restrains even more Anthony's options, he knows that. 

"Doesn't need to be you? Go lie down if you're tired."

"You have to sleep too, Tony," Rhodey insists, hovering between exasperated and concerned. 

"I am aware. And I will." One day, he supposes. Not tonight, he's pretty sure. 

"If you need a break or want to go to bed, I'm sure you have a minion who could play babysitter." 

"It is not babysitting, it's the Royal Guard's job." 

"Which means babysitter for the ultra rich and crowned," Anthony says. There is a change of quality if the air when they get to the smithy, and he immediately relaxes, more at ease. There's fire in the earth and the distinct smell of heated metal permeate everything. Anthony sheds his expensive and embroidered surcoat as he walks towards the flame, already rolling the shirt sleeves on his forearms. 

"You are serious about this." 

"You bet I am," Anthony says, grabbing a metal rod. Upon close inspection the material isn't satisfactory; it rarely is when Anthony hasn't made the alloy himself to control the quality. But it will do for tonight and he puts the iron in the fire. 

As expected, manual work does him some good. He proceeds to forge a sword in the following hours, almost as an automatism. The heat of the forge and the repetitive action of folding and refolding the metal also blissfully empties Anthony's head. It gives him a momentary reprieve from constantly thinking about the responsibilities he will have to tackle sooner rather than later. At one point, Rhodey had left, at Anthony's insistence, saying he'd find someone else to stand guard. A tall fellow took his place, not talkative at all, but guards are not chosen for their wit. Anyway, Anthony is _working_. 

He hits and hits the metal, cooling the weapon and starting all over again, in a technique Anthony perfected over the years. Not his best work, for that he'd need his special alloy, but it's still the best quality one can produce with regular ore, just below Valyrian steel. His own? the true ones? They are _better_ than Valyrian steel, something he plans to demonstrate in the next tourney. 

Anthony's movements stutter when he realizes that he might have already taken part in his last tourney. No one will risk allowing the king in the jousts and combat, not when they are afraid of a play on his life. Anthony hits with more vigor after that, frustrated. He had stated forging his special project, the one closest to his heart, at fourteen years old: the Iron Man armor. It was light, but still strong enough due to his experiments with iron and various minerals. On top, it was wonderfully detailed as he'd made the armor look just as fabulous as he'd wished. 

Armed with the best weapons he could make, Anthony had registered anonymously for tourneys. Everyone knew King Howard didn't want his heir to lose his time with those 'stupidities' when there were studies to do and trade to learn. Frankly, that was hypocritical of him, since Howard had done plenty of tourneys as a prince. So in his armor that shone red in the sun, Anthony had fought and won all of his bouts. He was strong for his age because of his work in the forge, but also fast and agile because his armor was half as heavy as anyone else's. The mystery of his anonymity and the buzz around the armor - which he upgraded regularly - made him a crowd favorite. Antony loves tourneys, genuinely. He can't get enough of the spectators' cheers but even more of the expression on his opponents' faces, especially when they hit the sand. 

Maybe, if Anthony is careful and sneaky, he could continue to compete as Iron Man. It would necessitate a lot more logistics, for sure; the king is expected to attend the show and his absence when one particular knight is on the field could be noticed. But it should be doable, with the assistance of a few friends. Barton, for one, is always ready to help. 

The sun is rising when Anthony hammers down the sword for the last time and dips it in salt brine. He looks at the blade critically and even though it's more rough than fancy, with no ornamentation for the handle, the weapon has a harsh beauty. Anthony sighs and resign himself to go back his apartments. He's not tired - wired yes, heavy eyed, but not much more than that - but important work is waiting for him and he'll get on it soon. It's only as he's putting down the weapon for good, already planning on coming back to see it in the day - possibly even try it - that a shuffling sound catches his attention.

Anthony expects the blacksmith, even though it's still very early. With the many visitors now crowding Winterfell, there could be an urgent demand for horse shoes or something... but it's his guard. And not any guard: the most intriguing Ser Rogers. 

"Huh. I'm pretty sure you're not the one who replaced Rhod- Commander Rhodes," he says. In fact, it's certainly not Rhodey's idea to send this guy after the conversation they had earlier.

Captain Rogers smiles, which is a beautiful sight. "And that would be correct. I replaced Thomas, his wife went prematurely into labor." 

Anthony frowns. "Not too early, I hope." 

** 

The castle is waking up. It would be a good idea, in Steven's opinion, if the prince got some rest. Or at least cleans up before his day starts. Lots of dignitaries will request meetings even though it would be normal to leave the prince to his grief and to focus on the crowning. It's in three days only, and there is so much to prepare. 

The future king finally lowers his sword that is magnificent even from afar; Steven would love to see it up close. Watching the prince forge metal had been enthralling. There's a mastery in his technique that speaks years of experience. Such confidence in his abilities is extremely appealing, and Steven is fascinated by how the prince focused on his work for the last two hours. 

The spectacle was also most compelling aesthetically: Steven has always admired the lines of both fit men and curvy women. He never did more than look after his betrothal, though. Since the engagement to Lady Carter fell though, Steven lets himself admire a little more freely... but it was surely crossing a line to ogle your king to be. Lying with men is not a big deal in the army. On the field everyone turns a blind eye to who you shared your cot with and keeps shut, but at the castle it's a whole different reality. Already, mere hours after being back, he's overheard the kitchen maids giggling about how the prince is a flirt. If he bedded a man, it would be all that they would talk about.

It's like the prince comes out of a daze all at once and he looks at him with surprise.

"Huh. I'm pretty sure you're not the one who replaced Rhod- Commander Rhodes," he says. 

Yes, he'd been in a trance all right, and Steven smile. "And that would be correct. I replaced Thomas, his wife went prematurely into labor." 

Anthony frowns. "Not too early, I hope." 

Frankly, the question surprises Steven. The worry shows a surprising level of compassion and empathy for a mere guard when Steven heard so much over the years about how the prince is selfish and self absorbed. He should have known better than to listen to gossip and almost blushes in shame. 

"Only a few days. They were expecting the baby on the full moon." 

Prince Anthony grins. "Ahhhh. A Beltane baby, I see." 

Steven catches up with the implication a second later. The dates do fit with the fertility rituals on Beltane, he didn't think of that. 

"They are married."

The prince rolls his eyes. "Good for them. Did you want something?"

"No, Your Highness," Steven says. "I'm just here to escort you when you're done."

"Please, stop," Prince Anthony says, raising a hand up.

Steven figures he will be dismissed although he agrees with Commander Rhodes that the prince should have an armed escort at all times. He's vulnerable right now, and someone could stroll in the castle and take a shot at him while the kingdom is still in turmoil from King Stark dying. No one wants that.

"First, stop making that face. You look as if you bit in a lemon," the prince says. Steven always struggles when it's time to conceal his emotions, but tries to reign in his worries. He doesn't want to start his interactions with the prince on a bad note. "I meant it to say I don't want to be called 'Your Highness', or 'Your Majesty' or what have you, that was my parents. When there's no need for protocol, you can call me Anthony."

Steven wants to reply that there is always need for protocol, but he doesn't know if he's allowed to be that familiar; again he swallows that answer.

"I can try, Your Gra-, hum, Prince Anthony," Steven stammers, colors rising in his cheeks at the almost blunder.

The prince laughs. "Close enough for now. Captain."

"Are you done for tonight?" Steven asks. It's morning, he hopes the prince will go rest at least a little.

Prince Anthony checks out the sword he's been working on and purses his lips.

"I suppose. I hate leaving something unfinished."

It's better than the majority of weapons Steven has seen – by far – and it hardly seems unfinished to him.

"It's beautiful," Steven says.

"You like it?" Prince Anthony looks pleased, eyes crinkling at the corners as he assesses the blade.

"Yes, of course."

The prince walks by him and shoves the weapon against his chest. "Have it then. A gift. I'll make you a real one soon. Rhodey talks highly of you, and a captain in my army should have the best."

"Thank you," Steven says, awed and a little overwhelmed.

Up close, the sword is even better than Steven thought, and he cannot wait to try it. With the edge of his thumb, he tests the edge and slices his finger. The blade is wicked sharp. By reflex Steven sucks on his digit to stave the blood and when he looks up Prince Anthony is watching his mouth, focused. It makes something Steven cannot explain course through him.

"I'm fine," he tries to reassure.

"That you are," the prince says with a quick smile and a wink, before leaving the forge.

Steven is stunned for a second – what did he mean by that? – before remembering himself and following suit to do his duty.

Thankfully the prince goes straight to his apartments, leaves with a goodnight even if it's dawn, and Steven resumes standing guard at his door until further notice.


	2. Chapter 2

Anthony doesn't need a lot of sleep, five hours is a luxury. But three isn't enough. He would stay in bed later if it wasn't for Obadiah barging in.

"Time to get up, Anthony," he announces, opening the heavy curtains that kept the sunlight away.

"Oh, come on," Anthony groans when a way too vibrant beam of light hits him straight in the face and compounds his headache. It's a problem Anthony has when he doesn't get enough sleep, and by his count he barely managed fifteen hours in the last four days.

Obadiah drones on about things to do and people to see. It's true, Anthony should pay more attention to that. He was interested in the debriefing about the situation in the North, but it's been pushed to the afternoon for more pressing matters. What is for sure is that the "are you even capable of running this place" vibes strongly implied throughout Obie's speech pisses Anthony the fuck up. He knows he has responsibilities, he'll get to them. He need not be judged right now.

"We'll see," Anthony says, finally getting up and putting on the clothes that were set aside for him. It's black, austere, very appropriate to the circumstances but immensely boring. He'll allow it for the moment, that is how responsible he can be.

He forces bread, cheese and some grapes down as a breakfast. Anthony also allows himself a cup of wine in hope to kill the headache, and turns his focus back to Obadiah, who hasn't stopped talking. Whatever.

"Run who's here by me again?" Anthony asks, and he almost feels guilty at the way Obadiah's mouth pinches in frustration.

"Representatives from several Lordships," Obadiah replies. "The Neck, the Eyrie. It is of uttermost importance we secure their support."

"Of course." He's not be that interested in politics, but he isn't stupid. "You're making me meet the easiest ones first, aren't you?"

"I figured it would be a good ease in," Obadiah says. He's skeptical of Anthony's political instinct and abilities and it shows. "I took care of having the treaties remade, ready for your signature," he points to the desk in the corner, covered with parchment. He probably thinks Anthony didn't even give them a look. He did, though. And has brushed up with the latest intendance reports for Winterfell and the situation in his kingdom. Running a country might not be what he'd prefer doing with his life, but he was raised for it.

"Bear Island, The Neck and The Eyries." Yeah, that's easy. "Our produce crops were disappointing in the last years. We could ask for more than five quarters of pears and apples from the Eyrie, and finally send a patrol to help with the mountain clans."

It's satisfying to see the brief shock on Obadiah's face, but Anthony's goal isn't to gloat. He better get to the meetings, this way there's an actual chance he'll be able to so something else – more interesting – later.

When Anthony exits his apartments to go greet his visitors, Rogers is still the one standing guard, shiny and distracting. He'd stare at the man's shoulders alone all day. He falls in step with Obadiah and him flawlessly, the perfect unintrusive bodyguard. Anthony is of the opinion he can take care of himself but he sure doesn't mind the scenery when Rogers acts as his shadow. Nonetheless he touches in assurance the dagger on his hip that might seem decorative with the jewels, but is nonetheless deadly.

He is also delighted that Clint Barton is one of the Eyries delegates waiting in the council room. Anthony reins in his deep joy to see him again – he wouldn't want to make the others jealous by playing favorite.

"Lord Barton, it's been too long," Anthony announces, giving him in a curt embrace. "Stay after?" he murmurs for his ear only, before letting him go.

"It certainly has been, Your Highness," Clint says. It's unnatural to hear him so formal, but he's playing the game too. There's a glint in his eyes that reassures Anthony : his favorite partner in crime from their time as wards in Casterly Rock is right there. He's just polished to muster present company. "My deepest sympathies," Clint adds.

"Thank you," Anthony says, clapping Barton's arm before turning towards the other delegates in the room.

A small man, that Anthony only places as a Reed by the trident stitched as accent on his collar and cuffs, is next.

"Lord Reed, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Reed smiles and bows. "Likewise, Your Highness."

Obadiah takes over and introduces the remaining delegates. The Mormont from Bear Island is a bearded giant who seems to be assessing Anthony. He slowly relaxes as the meeting progresses and the king of Winterfell doesn't put his foot in his mouth. Either he is doing a passable job of this, or Anthony looks like his father enough to be comfortable. Each of the envoys discusses the situation in their lands, and what they wish as a partnership with Winterfell. They want to keep the agreements signed under Howard reign, which is fair. But Anthony also wants to start his stint on a good note. These people are his strongest allies and securing them is vital.

They discuss and, subtly, Anthony suggest improvements that won't cost him that much. Each are custom made for his interlocutors so they are convinced they are cared for (including the patrols for Clint, which he would have done anyway). After two hours that leaves everyone smiling – save from Obadiah – it's deemed the talks are enough for today. The room clears soon after.

"What do you think you are doing?" Obadiah shouts, as soon as the delegates leave. He sent Anthony several murderous looks every time he opened the purse.

Anthony hates how tall Obie is, it makes him want to stand on tiptoes to reply. "My job, do you have a problem?"

"I am your Counselor. I ran this kingdom for years-"

"You ran?" Anthony says, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it was my dad's job."

Obadiah splutters. "You don't get to undo-"

Anthony slams on the table to interrupt him. "Hold on. I undid nothing. Think a little and do the math: this year we're coming short but starting next year we'll be getting more than we're giving."

He looks skeptical.

"Yes. Add it up," Anthony says, gesturing to the proposals. "On top, they leave satisfied."

"You should have ran the details by me," Obadiah grouses.

"Probably," Anthony admits. "But I had a hunch you would not take me seriously."

"And why is that, huh?" Obadiah snaps. "For years we kept sending you more and more money at Casterly Rock-"

"Howard was more than happy to throw gold my way in the hope I wouldn't make waves. I never asked," Anthony says. He didn't refuse either, but that's a whole different thing.

"You never took your responsibilities-"

"I wasn't here!" Anthony shouts. "Did I or did I not just renegotiate four treaties to our advantages?"

"Luck," Obadiah grumbles. "They want to please the future king."

"Fuck you very much," Anthony says, furious. God, he could never win with this man, and even less with his dad. "And remember your place, Counselor. You and Howard treated me like a nuisance for years, but I'm getting crowned soon. We have work to do, and I need you to counsel me. You know these people more than anyone else. Lots of details I'm not privy too. I will ask for your advice. But I'll also have a say on how my kingdom is run."

Obadiah examines him up and down, mouth still down-turned.

"You might be more like your father than the looks." Said with a twinge of respect.

"Why do you think we couldn't get along? Too much alike, to my despair," Anthony says. He slumps down on a chair, exhausted.

He needs Obie to go now, and thankfully he turns around and leaves. To Anthony's total surprise, Rogers is still there. He stands near the door, still as a statue and gazing in the distance. Shit. That's the problem with guards and servants exceptional at their work: you forget they are in the room too. Anthony has always wondered how it felt to be invisible while in plain sight.

He's pouring himself a well deserved cup of wine when there's a knock at the door.

"Your Highness?" Rogers asks.

"If it's Barton, let him in. Anyone else say I'll see later," Anthony says.

He hears the door open and when Rogers says "come in", Anthony turns with a smile.

"Thanks," Clint says and then they are grinning at each other.

As soon as the door closes, Clint charges him. Anthony only has time to put his cup down on the table that he's tackled in a full body hug and he laughs.

"Do you have any idea how weird it was to see you all responsible and shit?" Clint asks as he lets go, ruffling Anthony's hair.

Anthony cannot stop grinning. God, he's missed him.

"A lot changed since you abandoned me in Casterly Rock," Anthony says with a wink.

Clint grimaces. "You know I had to leave."

"New lord of the Vale, yeah. Sorry for your loss," Anthony says, gripping Clint's shoulder.

He'd been away with Loki at King's Landing when the news of Clint's father and brother passing had reached them. Anthony came back to Casterly Rock to find Clint long gone, needed at the head of the Eyrie; it hadn't been possible to say goodbye in person. They exchanged a couple of letters, but neither of them had ever been that dedicated to correspondence.

"Same," Clint says. "How are you holding up?"

Anthony grimaces. At least with Clint he's allowed be honest, even more so than with Rhodey. It's not that he doesn't want to, but Rhodes puts so much hope and trust in him that Anthony is worried to fuck up and disappoint him.

"The best I can. Hey, I feel like taking a break from the responsible shit," he says.

Cling laughs. "I bet!"

"Do you want to visit the armory? Or the apothecary? I haven't met our Maester, I wanted to do that too."

"As long it's something else than talk politics, I'm in," Clint says with a wink. "I've got your back, you are aware of that right?

"Yeah. And me yours." They'd always looked out for each other. They managed to forge a bond as strong as brothers in Loki's court, both hostages at a young age to preserve the peace in the Seven Kingdoms. Their shenanigans are among Anthony's best memory of his time in Casterly Rock.

"The political talk is all done. I'll have a treaty including what we've said earlier set up. Pepper will see to it."

"Pepper?" Clint grins. "The finest Lady of Riverrun is here?"

"Of course!" Anthony doesn't know how he'd deal with everything without Pepper. She'd helped him analyze the contracts Obadiah had left him the morning before. She's a literal godsend and has a sharp eye for politics.

"You don't worry that people will talk, if you let a woman draft up the fine details of treaties?"

Anthony dismisses the mere idea of critics with a wave of a hand. "Pfft. You know she's good. I am convinced she is the best... who cares what others say?"

"Oh, I agree," Clint says, pouring himself a cup of wine. "It's more than fine with me."

***

Steven hadn't realize Prince Anthony was that close with the lord of the Eyrie. Now that he thinks about it, it makes sense: both were wards of Loki at same time, he supposes that forges a bond. As for Lady Potts, she's been the prince's betrothed for years. Steven has seen her at the banquet the night before, not right by the prince's side since they aren't married yet, but close. They seem to have a strong intimacy; Steven figures it's useful that she's well enough versed in politics that she can help her husband-to-be with the overview of treaties.

More surprising is the scene Steven witnessed before that. The fight between the prince and Counselor Stane made him uneasy. As a guard or a sentry, he was privy to many disagreements and tugs for power. Heck, Stane has been steadily criticizing King Howard for years, though more obliquely. What he just did was belittling his future monarch right to his face. Maybe it's because he's seen Prince Anthony grow up, and cannot reconcile the fact he's gone from a child to a soon to be king. And yes, Steven has heard of Prince Anthony's dissipated reputation too, through court gossip. But in the actual negotiation Steven had been impressed with his ease and the way he understood his allies' demands. It had filled Steven with hope, especially the agreement to recruit for the Night's Watch at Mormont's demand. There's definitely more to the prince than what meets the eye. He has to agree with Counselor Stane, there _is_ a lot of King Howard in him.

Steven follows the newly reunited friends to the armory where Lord Barton looks around with interest.

"Where's your stuff?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Prince Anthony says with a shrug.

Barton looks confused for a second and then schools his expression.

"Oh. Oh! Right. Silly me," he amends and Steven is sure there's something more.

He watches them discuss and check out the inventory, keeping a casual eye out. He doesn't think there is any danger for the moment, in itself a reason stay vigilant. Steven, focused on the prince, is suddenly tackled from behind. Muscles and scent memory kick in before he throws his intruder aside. Bucky, it's Bucky. Instead of shrugging him off and using his fists, he turns around for a hug.

"Hey Buck." He's so pleased by the unquestioned intimacy of a full embrace. It was common before Bucky left for war, definitely not when he returned. It improved in the last few months, thank the Gods.

"You asshole. I had to learn you were back from Peter," Bucky says, rubbing his knuckles on Steven's head as if he's a little boy.

Steven shakes him off and rises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry. I went to your rooms as soon as I got in, but you weren't there. You were out hunting with Lady Romanov. On the funeral day of our king, what the heck Bucky?"

That has been shocking. Bucky should have been on guard with the other soldiers.

"I'm not good with crowds," Bucky murmurs, at least looking chastised. "Had permission from the Commander."

And shit, Steven didn't want Bucky to feel bad. He does keep to himself, these days.

"And you weren't there when I came back, after the banquet," Steven adds. "Still gone. So."

Bucky had been gone all night and Steven implies it without saying a word.

Bucky grins. "Ooops. True, my bad. If I had known, I'd come to see you."

"Who is Lady Romanov?" Steven counters.

"She is the most terrifying woman I've ever met," Bucky says, a dreamy quality to his face. "I am probably in love."

Steven laughs, and then quickly looks towards Prince Anthony, hoping his liege hasn't noticed that he's distracted from his job. But no, the prince is bent over a crossbow part, in animated discussion with Lord Barton. Who has caught Bucky's eye.

"Ah, shit. Is that Barton?"

"Lord Barton," Steven corrects with a harsh whisper. "What, do you know him?"

"Unfortunately. I guess I can kiss my chances of impressing Lady Romanov at the kings' tourney goodbye," Bucky says with a sigh.

"What? Why?" Bucky always wins abilities contests with bows and crossbows. He's the best shooter of the North.

"I'm good, but he's better," Bucky scowls.

His best friend is more than competitive and would never admit a weakness, even to Steven, if it wasn't a fact.

**

After the tour of the armory, Anthony takes Clint to the Maester's apothecary. He wasn't lying earlier when he told Clint he wanted to meet him out of official occasions.

Maester Banner isn't there, at least for now. There are, on the other hand, interesting books and scrolls strewn about and filling several bookcases and shelves. They cover various subjects: astronomy, medicine, metallurgy, and way more. If Anthony didn't know Banner has the chain, he'd guess physician or alchemist.

For sure, Banner has fascinating ongoing experiments. Anthony observes closely the glassware, for which he cannot quite understand the purpose not knowing the substances in play, and various bowls with mold. That he can guess about, by his own studies. Clint looks a lot less impressed and makes faces. They both jump, startled, when there's a throat clearing.

"Can I help you?" 

The man is short, with curly hair and glasses. Without the adorned clothes and hat he was sporting through the funeral ceremonies, he seems Anthony's age or close, which is a surprise. Anthony recognizes that Maester Lee might be too old for all the responsibilities imparted by his status these days, but he considers it a shame. Maester Lee always was more than good to Anthony before he left for Casterly Rock.

As soon as Maester Banner recognizes Anthony, he bows. "Oh. Your Highness. Pardon me."

"No, no, I should have sent word in advance." Anthony walks up to the Maester and shakes his hand. "Interesting library, very diverse," he adds.

It earns him a shy smile. "Thank you."

Frankly, it's pleasant. Most maesters are arrogant and full of themselves. Not all. Not Lee, and not Banner it seems.

"The mold, is it to treat infections?" Anthony asks.

Banner looks pleasantly surprised. "Yes! I observed promising results with a slew of chest congestion a few months past." 

Anthony cannot resist putting Banner to the test. "Surely the Old Gods had seen it fit for them to heal."

Banner smiles politely but breaks eye contact. "Of course, of course. Praise the Gods, Old and New."

It's impossible to fault him for the words, but they lack enthusiasm. Exactly what Anthony had hoped; he's not very devout and a too pious man could be a hindrance. Banner had done the funeral rituals correctly, but without too much of a fuss, or trying to console Anthony with scriptures and moral counsel. He had appreciated. Anthony happens to catch a speculative expression on his new shadow, Captain Rogers, who is watching the exchange with interest. Not just a fighter, that one. Anthony will try to get more information from Rhodey.

"About that," Banner adds, looking under his lashes at Anthony. "Maester Lee could dedicate his time for the religious offices, strength permitting of course, if that doesn't displease Your Highness."

"I see. Leave the mental and the religious health of the flock to old Maester Lee while you dedicate your time to your research of knowledge and the actual healing?"

"If it's acceptable to Your Highness. All inhabitants of Winterfell already have a rapport with Maester Lee, one better than mine, as I've only been here for two years. King Howard wanted me to-"

"Agreed, at the condition that Maester Lee has the energy", Anthony says. He doesn't want the details. Howard Stark replaced people as soon as they were not useful or productive enough, so he probably thought Maester Lee was ready for unofficial retirement. Even if maesters usually die on the job. 

"Thank you, Your Highness, he'll be more than happy to. It might give him a boost of energy."

"Glad to hear it," Anthony says. "Oh and remind me to send a request to Maester McCoy, he has a very interesting strain of mold."

"That would be great, thank you."

"Did you ever work metal? More than for the link, I mean," Anthony asks, pointing to Maester Banner's chain.

"Yes. Alloys, mostly. Effect of heat and cold, too."

"Excellent," Anthony says, smiling. He feels as they share a kinship for experimentation. "I'd like to come back and discuss with you? When I have time?"

"It would be my pleasure, Your Highness."

"Anthony," he tells Maester Banner, just like he did with Rogers in the morning. "When we are by ourselves, there's no need for protocol, you can call me Anthony."

Banner smirks. "There's often need for protocol."

Anthony hears Rogers cough and cover a smile with his hand. It makes Anthony laugh. 

"True, sadly. I am bad at protocol, I am sorry to say."

"I confirm," Barton adds. "You are the worse."

"Shut up," Anthony says good-naturedly. "But I insist. I need to go now. It's been a pleasure."

"Same, Prince Anthony."

Anthony raises his eyebrows and glances at Rogers, who seems amused. "I see how it is. Okay, okay, I get it."

"Don't worry, Stark, in a month no one will respect you anymore," Clint teases. 

Roger's smile turns into a frown. He looks annoyed, enough that Anthony pats his arm as he passes by to show that it's just teasing.

"Stop it, Barton, or you'll go visit my dungeon."

"You wouldn't," Clint says with a brilliant smile. "You missed me too much."

** 

Unfortunately there was more politics to be taken care of. After dinner, Anthony meets Pepper and her new friend, Lady Natasha. The woman has stunning red hair and a shrewd expression on her face that promises trouble.

"My lady," Anthony says, as he kisses Natasha's hand.

"Your Highness," Lady Natasha replies, with a perfect curtsy.

"It's my absolute pleasure," Anthony says. He hurries to Pepper and kisses her hand too. "As it is to see you, my sweet Virginia."

"Anthony," she says, smile fond.

"Aren't you betrothed?" Lady Natasha says, curious that the welcome isn't more demonstrative. "The rumor is to expect a crowning and a marriage."

Anthony's stomach sweeps. It would be too much, too fast. He loves Pepper dearly, but they would make an unhappy couple. A force to be reckoned with as rulers? Yes, he'd be a better king with her by his side, she has a cunning mind for politics. But if they once held romantic feelings for one another, it's over now. If they want to remain friends – and Anthony does, more than anything – they must not marry. Or a sham marriage of convenience, with affairs on the side, but Pepper deserves so much better than that. They agreed on keeping appearances years ago, using their betrothal to delay the inevitable of their family trying to marry them to someone else. It's time to end the charade.

"Why don't we announce our arrangement at the banquet after the crowning?" he asks Pepper.

Pepper smiles. "If you are sure."

He takes her into a hug.

"Yes I am."


	3. Chapter 3

The night before the crowning, Prince Anthony launches the celebrations, resplendent in a gray and black tunic with white accents, the colors of the Starks. He is charming as per usual, making the nobles assembled for the occasion laugh. No one seems to find Prince Anthony funnier than Thor though. The king of the Seven Kingdoms' presence is a big honor that everyone recognize. It's the first time that Steven sees King Thor up close. He's just as wide and tall as in Steven's childhood memories, where he'd seen him from the crowd at King Howard's crowning as king and warden of the North. Other suzerain might be insecure with other kings on his territory, but not Thor. He does have total loyalty from all of his wardens, except possibly from his own brother in Casterly Rock, and the worshipper of Hydra in Essos. 

On the given day, though, the crowd's focus comes back on Prince Anthony. The crowning is as beautiful and regal as anything Steven imagined. It's also long, as those events tend to be. Lots of prayers and ceremonial, after all. Prince Anthony doesn't break out of the script one time; Steven supposes that he is taking it seriously for the crowd's benefit. Counselor Stane relaxes as the ceremony progresses as if he feared an outrageous incident. Given Prince Anthony's reputation, Steven is almost expecting something too. But no, he stands regal and bigger than his stature, his charisma plain for everyone to see. 

Maester Bruce and Maester Lee do the ceremony conjointly, though Maester Bruce stays on the side, assisting. At one point the old Maester looks down at King Anthony and smiles fondly. The king beams right back, brimming with affection. Steven is increasingly convinced there's more to this man than the rumors. Also, more worryingly, he wonders what it would take to get a smile like that himself, but he tamps down on that thought immediately. Admiration is one thing, developing a crush would be inappropriate. Scolding himself, Steven focuses on his job and stands guard. 

Later, there is a banquet instead of a ball. To complete the ceremonies, the two following days will be the king's tourney. Throughout, every noble or hopeful who made the trip to Winterfell don their best clothes, and play the eternal game of making friends or trying to find weaknesses in others to rise higher in power. The political scheming isn't that interesting to Steven as long as it stays words and smiles. It's actual skirmishes he has to look out for, and it's difficult to figure who is inoffensive and who needs to be scrutinized. Fortunately all goes well. Once everyone has eaten their fill, Anthony rises to his feet and calls for attention.

"I am sorry to do this here, not the arena," new King Anthony says. "But I want to officially declare the games open!"

The declaration is met with cries and applauds, which makes King Anthony smile.

"And just when you thought it was impossible to take another bite, here's more food!" 

Because the feast isn't finished, more platters of grilled meat are being passed around, while jugglers do their thing and music fills the hall. When everyone has filled their plates again, the king rises once more, and the conversations lower in pitch. "Before we go on with the party, and the tourney tomorrow, I have an announcement."

Steven checks and yes, Obadiah is impassible but stern. He knows what is coming, and he is not happy about it.

"On this first day of my reign-"

"Long live the king!" someone shouts, followed by applauses. 

It makes Anthony grin. "Thank you, Barton. I'll give you the gold I promised later."

The assembly laughs too.

"But this is serious. As the first act as your monarch, I want to instigate a new rule for the North. It's been a long held tradition to arrange marriages, either for political or practical reasons. I state, here on this sacred day, that the parties directly concerned in such a marriage can proceed with them or break those arrangements, without the fear of consequence by the crown." There are lots of murmurs. "I value free will. If the betrothed couples decide to go with the proposed plans, more power to them. But there shall be no obligations, by their families or otherwise."

No wonder Counselor Stane looked annoyed, earlier. This goes against tradition, and will make the establishment react. Steven doesn't quite know what to think, stunned like everyone else. He's all about consent, especially in a marriage, but he'd also loved his own betrothed dearly, who would have been a great match for him.

"On that note," King Anthony says, having to raise his voice to cut over the crowd that is getting louder. Lady Potts has risen, by his side, and the king takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. "I hereby set the lovely Lady Potts of Riverrun free. The arrangement to join us and our two houses was a smart move by our parents, I will give them that. Even though we are very fond of each other, marriage isn't something we want to pursue together. Be free, oh my lady, proud heir of the Tullies. Slip through the net, escape the North, and I wish you all the happiness in the world with the lucky man I know deserves you more than me."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. Being your queen would have been an adventure, but I think we make way better allies as friends. I hope you find your perfect match, too, and you will always have a special place in my heart."

They embrace and it's with clear emotion, on both parts. Steven is gaping at the podium as are many others. Not only did the king said forced marriages aren't binding, but he breaks his own engagement? It makes sense if he wanted out. But it's a shock, nonetheless. The sound level has risen again, murmurs echoing around the room. Heads are bowing together, theories on why this is happening now running rampant. Steven sees a lot of judgmental stares thrown at the king. Lady Potts has been adored in Winterfell for years, treated as the future queen and her kind nature and beauty is admired by all.

"How humiliating for Lady Potts," a woman that Steven doesn't remember the name of tells her companion behind the flimsy barrier of a silk fan. "Repudiated like that? And in public too, at the crowing!"

Steven frowns. Nothing in Lady Potts' body language then and now speaks of unease or humiliation. In fact, she looks thrilled, her smile large and genuine. The king seems happy too, though they keep close, heads together. They would have been a stunning couple and made beautiful babies. Commander Rhodes and Lord Barton, that Steven knows are also close to Lady Potts, seem just as relaxed. No, this doesn't feel like a repudiation at all; it's an amicable break-up. Steven is pleased at the idea that the king is happy and free, a sentiment he doesn't want to examine too closely.

"Oh and gentlemen," King Anthony says, getting up again. Steven wonders what he'll say next. He's on a roll, and Counselor Stane seems wary. He expected nothing else. "As I said earlier, it's important for everyone to consent to a marriage. But not just marriage, in everything. I will have a law written about how any woman, or man, that has been coerced into... let's say an activity, against her or his will, can ask for the king's justice." He takes a pause. "And that means anyone, whatever linage or position, may they even be a lord or a king, will face a trial in those situations. And anyone can come forward too. No false accusation will be tolerated either, of course. Keep it in your pants unless it's welcome, am I understood?"

To Steven horror, what should be common decency seem to make quite a few guests look angry. The sound level rises again, but the king seems unbothered, staring down at the crowd as if he dares anyone to speak up. Steven sees that several women look skeptical. They must doubt that such a law could even be enforced with fairness, especially the servants. 

Then Thor rises, making everyone go quiet. He looks serious and Steven wonders, for a moment, if their new king won't have the shortest reign on record. But Thor claps King Anthony's shoulder soundly and nods.

"Wise words my friend, and a measure I wholly approve of. Your law shall be applicable throughout the Seven Kingdoms."

They embrace and Steven feels proud. He's seen way too many amoral things swept under the rug in the name of tradition and protecting the powerful. Maybe, just maybe, the little people and the vulnerable can have more of a say now. 

Lady Romanov, sitting at the main table at Lady Pepper's side, looks extremely pleased. She's looking at King Anthony and Thor as if they surprised her in a good way. Steven asked around after talking with Bucky, as his friend is definitely infatuated. He wasn't shocked to learn that Lady Natasha Romanov is rumored to have quite the character and an independent disposition. Bucky always liked his women feisty, and it's true she is superb. What is more worrying is that Steven found that Lady Natasha is nicknamed the Black Widow after the death of two previous husband in mysterious incidents. Perhaps they did things without her consent and paid for it.

The king claps his hands and grins. "Excellent, thank you oh Mighty Thor. But enough of the boring politics part of the evening! Now, back to what we've all be waiting for: the tourney!"

The cheers are loud and happy this time, guests hitting on the table and the ground.  
"Brave combatants, it will be a pleasure to watch you compete. There's lots of talent in the room. We are also bestowed the absolute honor to have the king of the Seven Kingdoms here and ready to play, so you know it's going to be memorable." Lots of cheers and whistles, and Thor flexes, making everyone laugh and more than one person a little faint with admiration. "Remember, though, that the goal is not to maim our adversaries. Keep it clean and show your skills. Tonight is the flamed archery competition. Tomorrow are the single combats, and jousting the day after. Winners will be celebrated at the banquet that night."

He pauses for more cheers and applauses. 

"Oh, and as for tomorrow, I am already warning all combatants that to my immense chagrin I cannot assist to the first half day. I need to make sure the lovely Lady Potts is correctly released from our betrothal and negotiate its termination. I will, however, be there from noon onwards, until the end."

It's unorthodox, since King Anthony is rumored to favor entertainment to work, but also understandable. Steven has two fights scheduled in the morning, elimination rounds, and he's disappointed that King Anthony won't be there to see them. He's never been one for showing off, liking tourneys as good practice but not as a place to boast, but he is eager to prove his worth. It means he absolutely must win and get to the afternoon finals.

***

"We wrote the agreement months ago," Pepper says.

"Yes, sorry to use you like this. It's the last time," Anthony says, sprawling in the most comfortable chair of his study. "Sadly."

She squints at him. "What do you mean?"

"I need the morning off with no one looking for me. That is all."

She is not fooled. "You're entering the tourney?"

Anthony looks up at her, stunned. "How did you?"

She rolls her eyes. "I didn't, only suspected. Thank you for the confirmation."

"I won't be able to do it anymore after this, so let me have my fun, please?" Anthony loves tourneys, it _really_ sucks he won't be able to do them anymore.

"Why not?" Pepper asks. "Many princes and kings joust."

"And everyone lets them win!"

"Even Thor?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"No, of course not," Anthony says with a laugh. "The big guy wins fair and square and no one insults him with half-assed combats. But he's the exception."

Thor ended up with the Seven Kingdoms' crown after defeating the mad King Laufey. His first act as a king had been to appoint his most loyal generals kings of their own regions... as long as they also swore loyalty to him as their leader. Anthony was only a kid when Howard was crowned and Thor doesn't seem to have aged a day since. He's said to be a descendant of the Asgardians, almost immortals, and with his strength and huge war hammer, Mjolnir, Thor rules the Seven Kingdoms with surprising benevolence.

"I suppose it might be tempting to let you win this one time, being your crowning," Pepper says.

"Yes. But if I do it anonymously, then I can see my real worth."

Pepper rolls her eyes. "I never understood how winning fights makes so much of a difference for some people."

"Men like being admired for their physical prowess," Anthony argues. Part of the truth, at least. He's always loved the dance of a good fight, having to use his body but especially his mind to outdo his adversary.

"If I admit liking the show, intelligence trumps sword fighting in my opinion," she says.

Anthony takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. "But that's because you are wonderful. I might be reconsidering us parting ways."

She laughs. "Yes, right. Have a good night, Anthony."

"You too my lady," Anthony says.

As he leaves the study and goes back to his wing in the castle, Anthony's mind drifts towards what he needs to get done before the tourney.

Only Clint, Rhodey and Jarvis know about the armor and weapons. And now Pepper, he guesses. Keeping it a secret was three quarters of the fun, anyway. Anthony plans to retire after fighting once tomorrow, maybe twice, and that's it. No one will see the Iron Man again, and he'll disappear in a cloud of mystery to never return. It's a shame, but also how it has to be. While not living in Winterfell, in the last eight years Anthony fought anonymously because he knew his father would blow a gasket, and had forbidden it. He wanted nothing to happen to his heir even though Anthony was a nuisance in Winterfell and more useful as a hostage. It's possible he harbors some resentment.

But Anthony truly and deeply loves forging weapons and armors, to make something beautiful that is also deadly (or life saving) is a thrill. And he is _good_ at it. His personal alloy is light and gets sharp and extremely solid when formed properly. As for the fights themselves, he's done the dance for years and with many masters at arms. Anthony has always been fast and cunning; in combat, a sharp mind is often just as dangerous - if not more - than a strong body.

As he told Pepper, Anthony resents that as soon as his anonymity would break, he would be coddled. The best way to enjoy tourneys is simple: fight a little and then bow out before someone realizes he's Iron Man. And since the fights are organized into elimination rounds, there a chance he might face bigger than he can take. Even if Thor doesn't compete as often as he once did, Anthony knows he would be toast.

When Anthony enters his room, he sees several wooden chests stacked in a corner, just as he hoped. The garment they contain aren't important, but his belongings arriving from Casterly Rock is what convinced Anthony to give the tourney his last hurrah. He couldn't do it without his armor and his favorite blades! Jarvis, who oversaw the transport of his stuff, must have kept them close. Anthony suddenly itches to to make sure that everything is ready for a fight tomorrow. To make it easier to sneak around, he goes back to his door, peeks out, and sends Captain Rogers – who is a very persistent shadow - out to report to Rhodey. Once by himself again, Anthony uses a hidden shortcut to reach the servant's quarters. At Jarvis' room, Anthony tests the door and find it locked. He knocks.

"Jarvis? It's me. Just me."

Which means he needs not hide the armor if it's out. They've perfected lines of the sort over the years. Maria had sent Jarvis to Casterly Rock with Anthony, and he never could hide anything from the man. His presence had been a godsend though.

"One moment Ser."

That's as informal that Jarvis will go, but they enjoy a great rapport based on taunt and sarcasm. In fact, Anthony's best relationships feature those two things heavily.

When the door opens, Anthony walks in and immediately goes to the table where his baby is laid out in parts. The curtains are opened, the window too high to cause a privacy issue, and the red and gold shines in the sun beautifully.

"I've missed you, so much," Anthony coos, picking up the face plate.

"I have missed you too, Ser," Jarvis answers, droll.

Anthony laughs and greets Jarvis with a hug. The man stays stiff, he's always been uncomfortable with familiarity, but when they part his eyes and smile are fond.

"So, everything is here?"

"Yes, Ser. And it was discreet as always." 

"You always are. Excellent," Anthony says. "It's not a problem to compete tomorrow?"

"Everything is in excellent working order," Jarvis says, almost insulted at the implication it wouldn't be.

"I had no doubts. As is our usual, I will have a tent set up for Iron Man."

"I will bring the necessary equipment to it. Time?" Jarvis asks.

"Sunrise. I might even get there before so no one sees me going in."

"Understood."

Anthony feels giddy just touching the armor; letting it go will be harder than he thought.

"It's great to see you Jarvis, welcome home," Anthony tells him as he leaves.

"Thank you." There' a subtle incline of his head, but Anthony has known him a long time. He can decode that he's happy to be back.


	4. Chapter 4

Steven is not on guard duty today since he's competing. Unless he loses, and his tourney is cut short, then he will go back to guarding King Anthony. As a captain, he could delegate the task to someone else. He has a lot of other things to do, like going over maps and scout information about the movement of the Wildlings. But the truth is that he's fascinated by how King Anthony is getting familiar with the castle and its inhabitants again. It's only been four days and Steven might just have to admit he's infatuated.

The sky is clear of clouds, and it promises to be a hot day for February. Steven delays the time to put on his armor to stay loose and comfortable as long as possible. For the tourney, Steven forwent jousting and focuses on the single combats he prefers. There are more contestants than spots for them for the jousting anyway, so he gladly gave his place to Clovis. Born and raised in Winterfell, the son of the blacksmith is slowly taking over in the forge, and will surely be a crowd favorite. The huge smile on his face when Steven let him know he could compete in his name was blinding. Everyone wants to impress King Anthony and prove their worth. Even Steven isn't immune.

When the trumpets announce the start of the ground sword fights, Steven armors up and grabs his favorite shield for good luck before he goes to the arena. On this morning, in King Anthony's absence, Thor is on the podium to declare the games open for the day. He's in light armor, red cape flowing and his massive war hammer in hand, and that's when Steven realizes that Thor himself plans on competing. It's news to him and a worry because damn, his chances to win this tourney just took a nosedive.

Steven looks at his fellow combatants, six of them, and he knows most well. There is Bucky, of course, and Sam Wilson who is one of Steven's dear friend. Lord Clint Barton will fight with them it seems. The next two men Steven is familiar with too, Grant Ward and Brock Rumlow, who goes by Crossbones. At the very end of the line, visor down – how dare he, in front of the King? – is Iron Man in his reddish and gold armor. Steven, like everyone, has heard through the minstrels and the court grapevine about the mysterious knight who shows up in a couple of tourneys a year. As promised by the songs, Iron Man's armor is a thing of beauty, all sleek lines and incredible mobility. The metal glints red when the light hits it right, and the gold accents show that whoever the man is, he's either loaded or has a rich patron. It's said Iron Man rarely talks except for taunts and never reveals his identity.

After the general introductions and opening speech, Thor offers a flower to his new bride, the lovely Lady Jane. She is tiny beside him, and it's frankly adorable to see how the King gazes at her as if she's the most important person in the universe. To be fair, she looks at him like that too, and they are the picture of the kings and queens of the ballads, the crowd eating it up. Even Steven has a pang of longing and wishes that for himself.

The herald puts the fights in motion and calls up the first match of the morning between King Thor and Lord Barton. The fight starts after a trumpet call and one would think Barton would be totally outmatched... and he is. But he still gives Thor opposition, being fast to evade hits and lithe enough to touch Thor's armor a time or two. Thor has a big smile on his face, obviously enjoying himself, and even Barton is grinning.

The bout lasts less than ten minutes, the King just too powerful for Barton. As soon as the Lord of the Eyrie admits defeat, putting a knee down, Thor hauls him up in strong embrace and declares him a cunning adversary. There's no shame in losing to Thor, everyone knows that, and if Barton doesn't look thrilled, he still won the archery contest the night before – to much grumbling from Bucky - so at least his tourney is not a bust.

Steven is called with Rumlow for the second combat. He went on a Wildling mission with him once and didn't like the experience. Crossbones is a good soldier, well trained, but he seems to believe that following the chain of command and explicit directions is mostly optional. Steven understands having reticence in certain situations, especially if there's a sensitive issue, but he dislikes soldiers who go against orders just for the sake of it, or even worst for their own benefit.

"Captain," Rumlow salutes with a nod, that Steven returns, and the fight is on.

Crossbones wastes no time, and attacks with hard blows right from the start. It's probably because he's seen Steven fight before and was going for surprise. Steven was ready, though, and raises his shield to weather the first volley, before taking the initiative for the next few minutes. As is his habit, Steven uses his sword but also his shield as a blunt instrument to hit and not just protect. It's a taxing exercise but a welcome one, the movements practiced so many times it's like a second nature.

All thoughts of impressing the crowd or the king – whoever king is watching – flees from Steven's head as he focuses on his present adversary. The game is to avoid being touched, while landing the most blows of his own, which he does with regularity. A quick parry damages his sword somehow, but thankfully he also hits Rumlow with the shield. Even though he's been using these moves for years, it always seems a surprise for his adversaries when he uses the shield as a weapon. He catches Rumlow on the side of the head, which makes him fall to his knees with the force of the impact. When Steven puts his nicked blade to Rumlow's neck, the other man throws his own weapon down, admitting defeat. Only then does the sound of the public come back and Steven stands up tall, accepting Thor's congratulations.

**

Ensconced in his armor that is a little too hot for comfort today, Anthony has watched the previous combats from the sidelines. As always he was impressed by Thor, who is so powerful and magnificent to watch. He still rooted for Clint, though, who proved to everyone how fierce he is. In the second bout, Anthony just couldn't take his eyes off Steven, awed at how he uses his shield and the perfect control the man has over his body. He's big but fast, and moves like a dancer. The fight goes in his favor, to Anthony's delight, and they are soon introduced to the next two combatants, James Bucky Barnes and Grant Ward.

Anthony has heard of Bucky though Clint, who spent the previous day trash talking him. To anyone listening it sounds like supreme arrogance, but Anthony knows it means that Clint admires the guy. The night before, the archery contest became a fierce competition between the two men. It was close for once, which is good for Clint's ego. Anthony also learned that Barnes is one of his own soldiers, a close friend of Rogers if he understood right, so he's pleased to have someone that competent in his army.

Ward has every appearance of being a little shit. He sports a small 'I'm good and I know it' smirk that gets on Anthony's last nerve. Such a reaction is somewhat hypocritical of him, he knows that he does the same. But there's something about Ward that just rubs him the wrong way. He used to be a soldier for the enemy, and turned cloak in the last year of the war against Hydra across the sea. That always makes Anthony suspicious. They say he's fought well for their side since, so he guesses he should give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

Technically, Ward is extremely skilled. Anthony competed against him the year before as Iron Man and he had his hands full, even with the advantage of his superior equipment. He'd won, though he remembers the small underway hits, vicious and borderline on unsportsmanlike behavior. For Ward a win is a win, and he'll do everything he feels he has to do to have it. Bucky has a lot of power for his size, but lacks a little finesse, being blunt and to the point. Ward, with his longer reach, blocks until Barnes tires and then goes on attack mode, relentless.

Rogers, with helmet hair that shouldn't be attractive but is nonetheless, comes back from having his equipment inspected by his squire. He leans on the fence delimiting the fighting area, totally engrossed in the fight. He's rooting for his friend and cursing all good blows from Ward, frowning when there's a hit a little too low or almost in the back. It figures that Rogers would be a stickler for clean fights.

In the end, Ward wins over Barnes, who submits only when his sword and shield are inaccessible to him in the sand of the arena. Anthony is curious about how Steven will interact with his friend and the man who won over him, but it's soon to be his turn and he needs do some warm up exercises.

It makes sense that a lot of Winterfell-based soldiers are fighting the tourney in the honor of his crowning. Anthony's first opponent is Sergeant Sam Wilson, a new addition to his troops from what he learned. He also fought in the war over the sea – always in the right camp, though – and is said to be a good soldier and an even better man. Well Rhodey says so, and in Anthony's book it's the best reference he can get. He's another of Roger's friend and came back from the Wall the night before.

Wilson is unfortunately not a big bulky guy – Anthony's favorite adversaries – and therefore he's got to be watched for his speed. He has light armor, which says Wilson means to take advantage of it, but makes him more vulnerable too.

Anthony is careful how he hits in those fights and has a pattern built on a lot of experience practicing with his very peculiar sword. It's not noticeable if you don't play close attention, but one edge of the blade is regular, while the other is extra sharp how only his special steel allows. The sharp side cuts deep, even through metal, but Anthony doesn’t want to hurt anyone here today. So while he duels with Wilson, Anthony keeps hitting with the blunter side of his sword.

They circle each other cautiously at first, but then engage in interesting exchanges. It's not just a series of power hits, but instead various volleys where they are well matched. Anthony has trained for years, though, and not to diss Wilson but he is predictable in solo combat. Eventually Anthony detects a pattern and starts hitting more vigorously, making Wilson stumble back. With the use of the sharp edge of his sword, Anthony takes a chunk out of his shield, made of reinforced wood with metal plates. The crowd awes and for fun Anthony does it a couple more times.

"What the hell!" Wilson says under his breath, and there is genuine worry in his eyes.

Anthony laughs, amused.

"I'd like to keep my bits, and all of my fingers," Wilson says as he attacks, more cautiously than before.

"Then yield," Anthony suggests.

Wilson has more pride than that though. He tosses his shield aside to attack once more. Good sport, Anthony drops his own shield and they have very nice exchanges until Anthony makes Wilson lose the grip on his weapon. When it falls in the dirt, Wilson does a face, then rolls his eyes before putting a knee to the ground as the crowd cheers. Iron Man always has supporters in tourneys, kids but also ladies who are intrigued by the mystery. It's too bad that Anthony never could take advantage of it.

"Good man, great fight," he says, offering his hand to pull Wilson up to his feet.

Wilson takes it. "Thanks. Same, of course. That blade is wicked."

"It sure is," Anthony agrees as they both turn to bow to Thor, who looks delighted.

"Wondrous fight, my friends. A grand spectacle!"

It was, and Anthony knows he will miss this so much.

***

Since Steven went to Bucky after his fight, he comes back just in time to see the tail end of the fight between Iron Man and Sam, who is being cut to pieces, literally. Steven has to admit that Iron Man is surprisingly fast for a man in full armor and has great technique. Steven has sparred with Sam, knows he's dangerous, but also a bit predictable and when Iron Man catches on it's Sam's downfall. For the second time this morning he sees one of his friends lose, which makes him wince. Mood in the guard tower will be grumpy tonight.

The first round of elimination is over, leaving four combatants: Thor, Ward, Iron Man and Steven himself. There is a draw, and the first semi-finalist are Thor and Ward. It turns out to be a battle between pure strength and deviousness: Ward uses every trick in the book to evade hits and catch Thor unbalanced or by behind. Thor rapidly grows frustrated with the fighting style, which is probably Ward's game plan. Unfortunately, a pissed-off Thor is a hyper-focused fighting machine, and it puts Ward even more at a disadvantage. When Ward tries to reflect the sun on his blade right in Thor's face, the King sneers at him.

"Always tricks."

Ward makes a shrugging motion. "I have to. Or do you wish for me to let you win?"

The sky, which until ten minutes ago was bright blue is covering up, fast. There's even the flash of a lightning bolt, followed closely by the roll of thunder. Murmurs raise from the crowd and Steven has got to give it to Ward, he doesn't seem bothered by the change of atmosphere that fits Thor's mood.

"Why don't you fight with honor?" Thor demands.

Ward might be an ass, but he's intelligent enough to know that angering the king is not in his best interest.

"Forgive me. I was only trying to give you a challenge, Your Majesty," he says.

After that, at last, Ward faces Thor straight on, and ends up losing anyway. Thor finds his smile back, and the sky clears up. Steven doesn't think it's a coincidence, and judging by the murmurs of the crowd, unwillingly or not Thor just added more speculations about what, exactly, he is and what he can do.

Minutes later, it's Steven's second combat, against Iron Man. He expected a period of circling as they studied each other, but Iron Man leaps right into attack mode. Their first exchanges are quick and to no one clear's advantage, but draw cheers from the crowd.

"Come on, show me your moves Captain," Iron Man challenges.

He's good, even better than he seemed against Sam, and doesn't underestimate Steven's use of his shield. In fact, after a few minutes most of Iron Man's offense is focused on the shield. He makes big hacking blows that Steven feels are doing damage even if it's made of reinforced steel and not wood.

Bewildered, because it should not be _possible_ , Steven jerks the shield aways. It is not his best idea, he realizes as he's doing it. It leaves his side open, Iron Man's sword going under his arm. The man curses and jerks back at his turn, reigning in his hit. Steven doesn't like the implication he's too fragile for a hard hit, and it spurs him on. As Iron Man is stumbling away, his momentum fucked, Steven hits the arm that hold the red sword with his shield, hard enough he feels the rim lodge under the shoulder plate, one of the very small weakness in the armor. With another curse Iron Man drops his weapon, and he immediately falls to a knee. Steven places his blade under the helmet, breathing hard as he tilts the man's head up, seeing his own reflexion in the polished metal. He half expects Iron Man to dive to get his weapon back, but instead he puts the other knee down, and does a small curtsy admitting defeat. The roar in the crowd is huge, the people visibly proud that a man from Winterfell defeated the previously Invincible Iron Man.

"Okay, so that was embarrassing," Iron Man says. "A little help?"

Steven offers him a hand to get up again, braces for weight – full armors like Iron Man's are heavy – but almost topples backward when it's too much of a pull and Iron Man careens in his chest with a chuckle.

"Easy, Captain!"

There's a logical dissonance for Steven between how light Iron Man is versus the armor he wears, as if the man inside the metal shell is only smoke and sass. It's not the time to solve that mystery as they turn to Thor who is clapping with a huge smile on his face.

"Good fight, brave men! We'll meet after lunch, Captain, I cannot wait!"

"It will be an honor Your Majesty," Steven says with a bow.

All he can think is that Prince Anthony should be there to witness the combat. He isn't sure if it will be a motivator or a distraction.

***

Anthony opens and closes the fingers of his sword hand as he enters Iron Man's tent. His arm hurts from the blow he received from Roger's shield and his digits are still tingly. It's a disappointment to lose his last fight in a tourney like this, but it's also fitting. He told everyone he'd be at the competition in the afternoon after all, so he had to lose. Against Steven is fine, too. What a beauty it was to be the focus of the captain's attention like that, it got Anthony hard during the bout, high on adrenaline. It was hidden by the armor, thank the Gods. It's a warning that he must be careful later, in plain clothes, because Thor and Steven? It should be epic. Also a catastrophe was avoided when Anthony managed not to spear a captain of his army when he accidentally pushed into the cutting edge of his sword, so that's very good.

He's about to let Jarvis help him out of the armor when there is a commotion at the tent's entry.

"Let me in." It's Obie, ordering the guards Anthony put outside the tent, hoping to avoid something like this.

"Counselor-"

It's a good thing that Anthony hadn't got out of the armor yet, because Obadiah barges right in. He's followed by two big men of his personal guard and visibly going for intimidation. Anthony is annoyed that his own guards let them through, but he waves them away when they look in wanting instructions, sheepish.

"Reveal yourself," Obie demands Iron Man.

Jarvis is judging him so hard right now. "The Iron Man has a decree from the king guaranteeing his anonymity."

Obie makes a dismissive gesture. "That's a piece of paper, and I couldn't care less."

_Really?_ Anthony thinks, insulted. It's nice to know how much weight his signature does not have for his advisor.

"I demand that you show your face," Obie orders again.

Obie's guards advance and Anthony raises his sword, wincing at the pain in his arm. "No."

The guy on the left has a basic blade looking old and barely cared for. From the countless tests he's done, Anthony knows it has no chance against his own sword. When the man takes another step forward, Anthony puts all of his weight in the motion and chops down, severing the guard's blade without a problem. The tip of Anthony's sword also carve the front plate of the guard's armor like butter. Once Anthony goes back in defensive position, it's to round eyes all around – save from Jarvis, who never loses his cool of course.

Anthony raises his sword again and the man who had his blade and plate cut turns around and flees. He must find out whom it is, because Anthony might not have plans to go to war with anyone ever, but he doesn't want cowards in his army either.

 

The other guard steps back but raises his own while Obadiah quickly finds his wit. "Very impressive. But I have dozens of soldiers, and you are alone."

Fuck, there is a good chance that this ends with someone knowing his secret. But for the word not to spread too much, he has to limit who knows.

Jarvis speaks up. "The Iron Man was guaranteed anonymity, and you are attacking him in his own pavilion. Surely a more civilized solution can be found?"

"I am not the one being difficult here," Obadiah say.

"Only if you're the only person to see me," Anthony offers, making his voice deeper in case the guard is paying attention.

The reflexion isn't long, and Obadiah nods. "Sure, that's a compromise I can live with. You go."

The relief on the guard's face is comical as he scuttles out rapidly.

As soon as the flap is down, Jarvis moves towards it and exits too. He'll probably stay just outside, to warn him if anyone else is coming. Good man.

Anthony turns away for a more dramatic reveal – sue him, he's a diva and he knows it – takes off the gauntlets with a latch that allows him to do it himself, then undoes the helmet, passes a hand in his hair before he pivots back around.

"What the hell, Obie?" Anthony asks. "Since when you don't respect the king's orders, hum?"

He's stunned him. It's very satisfying.

Obadiah splutters. "What?

"Surprise?" Anthony says, laughing because this is hilarious.

"You devious son of a bitch," Obie says, finally smiling. "You were Iron Man all of those years?"

"A guy needs a hobby," Antony says with a shrug.

"You don't say."

He steps forward and grabs Anthony's sword, looks at it and then at Anthony's armor with appreciation. "You made these, am I right? How?"

"It's a secret."

"Can you imagine our army with those weapons?"

It makes Anthony shake his head. "Why? We don't need that." Those blades are extremely dangerous, and Anthony has to trust the people he gives them to. "As far as I know, we aren't at war with anyone."

Obadiah lists possible threats. "Wildlings, giants over the wall, white walkers..."

"This steel wouldn't stop white walkers," Anthony says. He obviously never experimented with that, but cold is a weakness for his blades. "Dragonglass does, and we have that."

"Anthony..."

Obie looks frustrated, but so is Anthony. "No. I won't produce them en masse, and that's it." He hates to play the next card, but he's annoyed enough to do it. "Remember your place, Obie. I am the king, and not your docile little puppet."

It's not well received at all. At least he doesn't argue, but after turning bright red in anger, Obie storms out of his tent. Oh boy, Anthony feels as if he's not heard the last of this.

He gets out of the armor and into regular clothes with Jarvis' help, and then out of the tent fortunately without being noticed. He doesn't like that Obie knows his secret now, but then again he is retiring as Iron Man. Maybe he should publicly come out? He cannot decide if it would make a better story, or if the mystery is the way to go. The fighting made him hungry, and it's with enthusiasm that he joins the guests for lunch. 

The best, though, is the final fight between Thor and Rogers in the afternoon. The stands are packed, and the bout as beautiful as the two men engaged in it. Anthony was correct, it's a very arousing sight, but since everyone is smitten and awed, he fits right in.

To absolutely everyone's surprise - probably even Roger's - Thor loses. Maybe the king was too cocky, or it's that he didn't have such a physical adversary in years, but for the first time Anthony sees Thor lose terrain and miss parries. The blade in Steven's hands sings - it's the one Anthony forged, he notes with pride - and he seems unstoppable. Unsurprisingly Rogers uses his shield a lot, and Anthony feels bad for trying to destroy it earlier, he should make him another one. Yes, that's a good idea. Lighter, stronger, Steven should do wonders with it. Heck, he does great with this one, and just like in the fight with Iron Man, he disarms Thor with a well placed hit to the arm.

The crowd goes absolutely nuts that one of their own, their golden son, has won the single combat against the Mighty Thor, king of the Seven Kingdoms. Even Rhodes by his side whoops with joy, and Anthony is definitely looking forward congratulating his captain.


	5. Chapter 5

It has been several hours and Steven is still flying high on the buzz of his win in the arena. When he saw Thor kneeling before him on the sand, he had a minute of doubt that he probably did a faux-pas. Fortunately Thor is even happier than if he'd won, somehow. It seems like he cannot shut up about Steven's ability and prowess, making him blush crimson every time. He has been getting a lot of attention from lords and ladies that never would have looked at him twice on a normal day, maybe too much, but overall he's hyper-aware of king's eyes on him. It's thrilling to know he's got his attention, and if Steven's mind goes to 'not betrothed anymore', he can't help it. But as much as has been thinking about King Anthony constantly in the last days, he is certain that he doesn't want to be just the flavor of the day.

As the single combat winner, he gets the honor of sitting at the king's table for supper. The heated looks became obvious flirting throughout the meal and Steven was a mumbling mess in return. He's terrible at this, and the king is so gorgeous, smiling at him and taking every occasion to touch Steven. Everything comes to a head when the music starts and the king asks him to dance.

Once more Steven blushes. "I'm sorry, I don't dance."

It's probably overly romantic, but he's waiting for the right person to learn with, someone who will not be just an evening adventure.

"It seems like a good occasion to learn? Or maybe there is already someone in your life that you would prefer taking for a spin?"

Steven shakes his head and steps back, breaking contact between them. "No, there is not. I am still looking for the right partner. Please understand I mean no disrespect, King Anthony. I wouldn't want to be an embarrassment."

The King smiles, friendly but maybe also a little sad. He must not be refused often, and he clearly got the message that Steven is not interested in an affair. "You could never be an embarrassment, Captain. But fine, I won't pressure you, don't worry. You fought wonderfully today, I am very proud of the honor you bestowed on Winterfell."

He raises his hand to clap Steven's bicep amicably as is his habit, but then makes a face, rubbing his arm.

Steven frowns, worried. "Are you hurt, King Anthony? How? When?"

Did something happen during the tourney that he didn't hear about? With so many people, it was a good occasion to attempt on the king's life. Steven knew he should have done his job instead of playing.

King Anthony laughs. "Stop the mother henning, I'm fine. I hit my arm... on a door. I wasn't looking where I was going," he says with a shrug and a self-depreciating smile. "Clumsy, it happens."

That's a lie. King Anthony is never clumsy, and Steven doesn't like it.

The king reaches for Steven's hand and squeezes it gently, the touch making Steve's stomach swoop. He looks at him in the eyes, and Steven is mesmerized.

"I hope you find the partner you desire, Captain," the king says, obviously sincere.

Before Steven can think of anything to say to that, King Anthony lets go of his hand. He steps away and is immediately swarmed by other guests.

Heart hammering in his chest, Steven cannot stop looking his way. Desire is definitely not the problem. He wants King Anthony with a passion that he's never experienced before. Which is, in fact, exactly said problem. He cannot hope to have him the long term, and Steven better just prevent the heartbreak.

***

Even if, sadly, his Iron Man days are over, Anthony will hold on the armor, if only for sentimental reasons. He's keeping the sword, too, that's a lot easier to camouflage as regular steel, and he's almost finished with a new suit of armor for Rhodey. As his oldest friends and most trusted ally, Anthony has a vast interest in keeping him alive. Mindful that it won't be too obvious that it's made with the same alloy as the Iron Man armor, Anthony gave Rhodey's a patina so it doesn't shine red, without compromising the armor's property. He also has arrowheads for Clint practically done, who he knows will be responsible with their usage; they pierce metal like a hot knife through butter, and with a marksman like Clint, it's an assured kill if he wants.

Anthony had a private forge set up in the castle, with good airflow so the fire is extra hot. He discussed a lot with Maester Banner about metals and techniques, and they even did a couple of experiments together. Reserved at first, Banner thawed with time and he now smiles at Anthony's jokes and even makes some of his own. He has a sharp mind and is knowledgeable in many things, it's a delight to converse with him. One of their project is a new catapult system, and they built a very promising model.

Running a kingdom takes a lot of time and forces Anthony deal with a lot people he would prefer to avoid. Every moment he steals to work in his smithy is a relief. When he does, guards stand outside the door, as much on Rhodes' insistence than because Anthony values his privacy and secrets.

Today he's forging a new shield for Captain Rogers with his special alloy. He makes it round, with an edge that is blunt but still can inflict damage. The shield is quite light when done, and Anthony engraves it with concentric circles, and a star in the middle. It's similar to what the captain used in the tourney, even though he's tempted to go with the Stark direwolf that would clearly label Rogers as one of his. He doesn't resent the man for turning him down, at the ball, and in fact can appreciate that he did, now that the sting of rejection has faded. He will need his captain for his household and army to run smoothly, and it's better if they don't complicate their interactions with sex. Even if it would have been spectacular.

The one problem Antony sees with the shield when it's finished is that its curve makes the red tint even more noticeable than usual. The only solution is camouflage, and a highly resistant lead enamel Anthony has experimented with before seems the way to go.

He starts by painting the star in the middle white, on a blue background, then alternates white and red stripes until he reaches the edge. He paints the inside of the shield, too, with a gray color. Then, to ensure that the enamel is solid, Anthony heats it over the flame. The result is glossy and quite fetching if he says so himself.

Happy with the result, Anthony puts it aside to continue working on Rhodey's suit of armor. In a way that is too reminiscent of the confrontation after the tourney, Anthony hears arguing at the door before Obadiah barges in. Anthony is pissed.

"I said no one gets in without my say so," he hisses between his teeth. Are all of his guards incompetents? This new face looks nervous and unsure who he should listen to.

"Please, dismiss. It's just me," Obie tells the young man, making a gesture.

Maybe it's because the guard has always known the Counselor, but he immediately starts to leave. Isn't Anthony the one who is supposed to be listened to around here?

"Go get me Captain Rogers," he orders the guard, who nods before disappearing.

"You are getting on my nerves, Obie," Anthony tells Obadiah as he looks around the forge, curious.

"I need to talk to you. It's important."

"It could have waited until tomorrow."

"In fact, no. We need to talk about that tax for the rich households you brought up to the Council this morning. And I talked with the Van Dynes. A marriage with Lady Janet would go a long way to secure our influence in the North, the Twins is a strategically placed stronghold."

That surprise of the word 'marriage' is so strong, that Anthony glosses over the tax issue. "What? No. No."

Janet is a sweetheart, and he loves her like a sister; they spent so much time together as kids. Her father was a close friend of Howard's for years before they had some fight and stopped talking to each other. It was fun seeing her again these last few days, she grew up beautiful and is still smart like a whip, but marry her? No way.

"It's your duty to make sure the North is strong, and you need an heir!" Obadiah argues.

"I won't get married and have a child for an agenda!" Anthony spits back. He felt like a chessboard piece for years and still does now. He won't deliberately put an innocent kid in the same position.

"I'm not saying that we need to force anyone into this," Obie says. "There are many high born ladies out there who would be happy to ally with the Starks and give you an heir, of their own free will."

The worse is that it's true. Even so, Anthony cannot see himself getting into a marriage just for convenience. Heck, he just broke his betrothal with Pepper, that he once genuinely loved and could probably fall in love again because he didn't want an union that was mainly a merger. He puts the piece of armor he was working on down and leaves the smithy, Obadiah on his heels. Not trusting that no one will enter when he's away, even if it's forbidden, Anthony locks the door with the three point system he installed.

Unfortunately, Obadiah is still talking. "Anthony, your dissipate days are over. You are a king now."

Whipping around, Anthony gets close and personal, right into Obie's face. He hates that he has to look up.

"Back down," he growls, totally fed up. "You are, once again, skirting the line. I'm grateful for the years of counsel to my father, and I have a lot of respect for you. But don't cross me, do you hear?"

Anthony feels that he is getting progressively redder, anger coursing through his veins. What was Obadiah's relationship with his father in the last years? Did Howard agree with all of his ideas? Or maybe he didn't, and now Obadiah thinks that since Anthony is new as this, momentarily vulnerable, there's an opportunity to turn him into a puppet?

Obadiah isn't intimidated by him, at all. He looms, not giving a shit, and talks back, "Listen, you little -"

"Is there a problem?"

Anthony was, at the first insult, going to deck Obadiah, he's sure of that. But Rogers's intervention is surprising enough to make him step back. He is still furious, but making a scene in the hallway right now is not in anyone's best interest. He glares at Obie, who had the sense to clamp his mouth shut and steps back too.

"No, no problem," Anthony grounds out. "Only a disagreement."

"Agreed. Just offering my opinion. My king can decide as he likes after hearing it."

"Oh, I heard you. I'll think about it." Anthony's mind is pretty set, though. But conceding that he'll reflect on it buys time, and it's also the polite thing to say.

"That's all I ask. My king," Obadiah bows, then turns to Rogers with a head nod "Captain."

Doing his best to let the pressure go down, Anthony takes a deep breath.

"Walk with me," he asks of Steven, going towards his apartments.

***

 

The king is vibrating by his side, he's so mad. He's also taking breathing deeply, trying to calm down.

"Was I right to interfere?" Steven asks.

"Oh, yes, yes, absolutely," King as says, making Steven sigh with relief. "Thank you. My temper will get the best of me one day."

"Counselor Stane shouldn't talk to you like that. You would have been in your right to smack him down. I just thought it would make things worse afterwards."

King Anthony lets out a nervous laugh. "I know, I know. It was so tempting though. Was he like that with my father?"

"No, not exactly," Steven admits.

"How then? And how, if I can ask, do you know?"

It makes Steven smile. "Nobles often forget that guards have ears."

King Anthony laughs, and Steven is inordinately proud to have changed his mood. "Indeed."

"Not that we retell any of the information we hear." It is one of the first things you learn on that job: be alert, but whatever you heard isn't any of your business, and if you talked someone would know and you could lose your head.

"Of course not. So, Obadiah and my father?"

It's not an easy question to answer, because a part of what Steven believes he based on a feeling and not hard facts. He tells King Anthony, anyway. "They agreed on how to act on most issues, but Counselor Stane seemed to feel... constrained in the North." Just saying it feels like treason.

"What?"

"King Howard always refused to consider the counselor's idea to expand the Stark territory to the South-West. Especially after the truce negotiated with Loki."

"That truce was negotiated by sending me to Casterly Rock!" King Anthony exclaims.

"I know, and King Howard always shot him down for that reason," Steven reassures him

"I sure hope so," King Anthony grumbles.

"And Counselor Stane doesn't feel that the Wall needs more men, while King Howard did."

"The Wall..." King Anthony says thoughtfully. "You've been there, right?"

"I was there when you arrived in Winterfell."

"And?" the king asks, looking genuinely interested in Steven's opinion.

"It needs more men. Badly."

King Anthony nods. "I think I'll go see that by myself."

Did Steven heard that right?

"My king?"

"As you saw, I'm butting heads with Obadiah," he says wryly.

Steven nods. "Too many reforms too fast, I'd say."

"Do you think so?"

"No!" Steven exclaims, because he knows that King Anthony is trying to make things better. "I mean... I honestly approve of everything, but it's going fast for old men set in their ways."

King Anthony laughs again. "Touché. Which makes this idea even better. It will give the old men a time to breathe while I get to clear my head and see the Wall for myself. My father never wanted to take me there."

"It's a dangerous place for a child."

It makes the king huff. "Well I'm not a child anymore, and more than able to defend myself. How do I get this show on the road?"

"Set the Castle's intendance with Maester Banner and the rest of the Council, and I'll get a convoy ready."

"I want Rhodey to come," the king says, getting excited by the idea. "Oh and Clint, he's always wanted to see the Wall too."

"Sure." It's a disappointment to see the king so eager to leave, for however long it will be. "I'll keep the castle safe."

"What?" The king looks at him in surprise. "No, you are coming too. I need your experience over there. Do you think we can put your friend Barnes in charge of the security here?"

That the king wants him to come along and has thought of Bucky warms Steven right up. "Sure. Even better if we leave Sam too, yes."

 

"Ah, yes, the Falcon," King Anthony says with a nod. "Reasonable man, I like him."

"He's great. Commander Rhodes has built a fantastic team."

That earns him a sideway look. "I thought combatants pledged to the king, not the leader of the army."

For a second, Steven wonders if he's put his foot in his mouth again, but then he realizes that he's being teased.

"Of course. You seem to have your own loyal followers and are rapidly winning the rest. Maester Banner has smiled more in the last two weeks than the two years I've known him."

King Anthony grins. "He's the best. And you?" he asks, looking mischievous. "Am I winning you over?"

Oh, Steven is definitely won over. One hundred percent. Maybe a little too much.

"You might be getting somewhere," Steven quips back. It sounds a lot flirtier than he intended and King Anthony throws back his head laughing.

"Good to know, Captain, good to know." With a wink he enters his study, where Rhodes happens to be, leaving a flushed Steven at the door.

***

"Oh Gods, I am so screwed," Steven says while he slumps into a seat in Bucky's room, putting his face in his hands.

"Really? Tell me more." Bucky looks positively giddy.

"Don't be an ass."

"No, seriously, tell me! What happened? You got propositioned again by someone who hasn't left court yet? Checked someone out in the baths and they noticed that you saw and now you are mortified? Thor sent a bird saying that upon reflexion he decided to adopt you and therefore you have to go to King's Landing?"

Steven rolls his eyes. "Of course not, don't be an idiot."

"I can't be an ass, can't be an idiot, how will I ever have fun?" Bucky says, hands in the air in a mock expression of dismay, before breaking into a big grin.

"You are in a good mood today," Steven says, rising an eyebrow. A teasing Bucky is common, but this goes above and beyond. He sees his friend biting on his lip with a secret little smile, which gives him away. "How is the lovely Lady Romanov?"

Bucky knows he's caught, but he plays it cool with a wink. "Beautiful, as always."

"You spent time together, I presume?" Steven asks.

"Yes. And she even laughed at one of my jokes. I swear my heart flip-flopped," he says dramatically.

Steven thinks about King Anthony throwing his head back in laughter and he sighs. "Gods, that's the worse."

And oops, that brought Bucky's attention right back on him and the conversation he really doesn't have to have (not even with himself).

"Who were you with just now?" Bucky asks.

Steven hates that he can feel the blush overtaking his face. "None of your business."

"Oh oh oh!" Bucky says, teasing. "Stevie has a crush," he sings-songs.

He grabs a boot and throws it a Bucky, who unfortunately dodges

"Shut up."

"Who is it?" He inquires. "Do I know her?"

Steven feels himself getting even redder. He doesn't want to lie to Bucky; he never did and doesn't want to start with something like this. But he can't admit crushing on the king either! So he crosses his arms over his chest and looks at the floor.

"I am not answering."

"Oh, I do know her!" Steven must twitch, or Steven's a lot more transparent that he knows because Bucky's tone turns pensive. "Or maybe I know _him_."

Shocked, Steven looks up at Bucky. He never said to a single soul, not even his best friend, that he has thoughts about men this way. Not that he wanted to hide it - or maybe yes, a little - but it lead nowhere. He's never acted on his attraction to men, anyway, so it seemed too personal to discuss. For a long time he believed he'd end up married to Peggy, anyway.

Bucky scowls and Steven's heart sinks.

"Don't make that face! As if I'd think less of you if you liked dick, come on."

That takes a second to register, and it's like emotional whiplash. So Bucky doesn't disapprove?

"Wha-?"

"Oh boy," Bucky says. He gets up from his bed and crouches in front of Steven's chair so they are eye to eye. "Love is love. Sex is sex. I don't care what works for you as long as it makes you happy."

The overwhelming relief – of course Bucky would be fine with it, he never really doubted that, right? – make the words stick in Steven's throat. So he nods.

"Thanks Buck," he croaks, finding his voice back. "You too. Even if she's possibly a spy set on killing us all."

Bucky grins. "Yeah. And, my friend, you thought I hadn't noticed your eyes sometimes strayed towards nice shoulders and asses? Come on."

"I do not ogle people," Steven protests for form.

"Pshah," Bucky says. "I know you as if I've had knitted you myself. You do check out people – admittedly more respectfully than most - and you know it. Like all the time. Especially for the king..." he blinks and trails off, coming to the right conclusion.

Does that mean that his infatuation for King Anthony is obvious for all? Steven wants the floor to swallow him, but it sadly doesn't oblige. So he puts his hands on his face instead and groans.

"Oh boy," Bucky says.

"As I was saying earlier," Steven repeats. "I'm screwed."

"Hey, hey, don't do that," Bucky chides. "From what I've seen, the king checks you out, too. That's good news, no?"

"No!" Steven protests. "I mean yes, it's flattering, but I won't warm his bed until he gets bored and moves on."

"You like him, he likes you... Why not, if you go in this with eyes wide open and no expectations?"

Steeven feels bright red, and he hates it.

"I'm not like that, and you know it," Steven says.

Bucky sighs. "You're in love with him already, aren't you?"

Steven pouts. It's highly possible. Enough that he wouldn't be satisfied with just a physical relationship, if he was, indeed, able to do that. Which he isn't.

"Anyway, I can't think about that anymore. I've got to prepare to leave for the Wall."

"What?" Bucky exclaims. "Oh no, no way. You're not running away from this."

Steven rolls his eyes. "When have I ran from anything?" he asks.

"Point," agrees Bucky. "So you have a reason to go back to the Wall? Did the Brothers send a call?"

"They always need help, but that's not it. King Anthony wants to go there. He asked for Commander Rhodes and me to go too, and that you and Sam stay in charge here in Winterfell."

"Oh, sure. But I'd prefer going with you..."

Steven rolls his eyes once again. "I don't need you mother henning me, we discussed that last time. I hit my growth spurt a while ago."

"I know, I know. Old habits, you know. Can't blame me for remembering what a belligerent little squirt you were. But last time you at least brought Sam."

"Ha ha." It is, in fact, very true. "Are you okay running Winterfell? I think I'll take a thirty men escort."

"Yeah. I would say it's a lot with you and the commander on top, but it is the king. Is he bringing his pet archer?"

Steven smirks. "What, in a hurry to see him leave?"

"Yes! He's annoying! He's always trying to start conversations with me!"

"Aww, he likes you," Steven teases. "You should play better with others."

"Fuck you, I'm a joy," Bucky grumbles.

"It's not because he's one of Romanov's closest friend, is it?"

"No," Bucky answers, petulant.

"Or because he won the archery contest?"

Bucky crosses his arm over his chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

It makes Steven laugh, which he thinks was the goal of this whole part of the conversation anyway, judging from the humor floating in Bucky's eyes.

"Let's not talk about things, then. Anyway, we won't have time. We've got a trip to prepare."


	6. Chapter 6

It took twice as long as Anthony expected to leave, but they are finally riding towards the Wall. With every league he puts between him and Winterfell, he feels like he can breathe again, which will be a problem to address before he comes back. He might have been shoved into a role he didn't expect so soon – or even wanted, to be honest – but he must fulfill it, nonetheless. Anthony is perfectly aware that he's evading his responsibilities right now with this trip, but he thinks he can be cut a break as he adjusts.

Plus, he's always wanted to see the Wall. The situation with the Wildling is dire if he can trust Rogers – which he does, surprisingly a lot, for someone he met so recently. On the other hand, traveling means tents and washing up with mostly cold water yeah, it's not Anthony's favorite. He's spoiled, and he knows it. Fortunately, he's got the nicest amenities. Being king has its advantages!

"Will that be all, Ser," Jarvis asks as he takes away the rest of his supper. Riding all day sure opens an appetite, he didn't leave much.

"Yes, thank you. Oh, you brought the things right?" he asks.

"As requested," Jarvis says. "In the chest, by the bed."

"Excellent. Could you find Captain Rogers and send him over?"

"Of course," Jarvis says with a little bow.

"Thanks."

He was so determined to avoid any argument with Obadiah before he left that he spent almost three days in the smithy, playing with metal. He works best when he's doing something with a purpose or for someone, so he made gifts. Clint got his before they left Winterfell: twenty arrowheads made with Anthony's special alloy. He was beside himself and immediately ran out to mount them on shafts with fletching.

Anthony also covered Steven's shield with a second coat of enamel, and that's why he asked for the good captain. He likes the guy. If at first he was mainly attracted to his looks, spending more time with him in the last weeks got Anthony interested in his personality, too. Ser Rogers is almost always polite and proper, taking great care to do his job well, but there's humor in there and a temper too. Steven was appalled at how Clint and even Rhodey talked to him at first, the familiarity of it, but Anthony is confident that very soon he'll speak his mind too.

Before Thor left, they held a quick meeting in the map room. He gathered Pepper, head of Riverrun, Clint for the Eyrie, Janet for the Twins and Anthony asked for Rhodey and Rogers too. The goal was to overview the state of the Seven Kingdoms as they all perceived it. They discussed Hydra and the tremors of an uprising over the sea, and Rhodey mentioned that they was a lot of troops movement around Casterly Rock. That information made Thor frown, and he said he'd talk to his brother. Captain Rogers waited until every noble had said their part before requesting a moment. And there, right before their eyes, he became the exceptional captain of his armies that Rhodey had swore up and down about. He explained in short and precise ways the trouble brooding in the North. That kind of competency is a total turn on for Anthony, and in fact, Rogers impressed everyone around the table. How he'd talked about the Wall had planted the seed of wanting to go there, soon.

It doesn't take long for Anthony to hear Captain Rogers greeting his sentries. It seems overkill to have two men watching his door at all times, in his own caravan and on his own land. But if it can reassure his mother hens (once more, Rhodey and Rogers), he'll suffer from the distinct lack of privacy.

"You asked for me?"

"Yes, yes, come in," Anthony greets him.

Usual good looks aside - and he's stunning in the light armor he wears on the road - Rogers seems worried. "Is something wrong?"

"What? No, not at all. Can't I just wish to enjoy your company?"

Rogers immediately fidgets uncomfortably, looking down at the ground and blushing. Anthony could kick himself. He knows the guy reacts badly to his flirting, he was unequivocal when turning him down after the tourney, and Anthony had sworn he'd tone it down. It slips out, sometimes, because let's be honest that blush is precious.

"Ah, hum."

"Never mind, I'm teasing. I have something for you."

Rogers tilt his head to the side, curious. "Something for me?"

Anthony links his fingers behind his back and rocks on his heels a little. He hopes the gift won't be mis-constructed.

"Yes. As I told you at the tourney, and you surely have been told before, your fighting style – especially when using your shield- is very distinctive. But I heard that your favorite shield got damaged against the Iron Man and Thor."

"Slightly, yes," he says with a smirk.

"You know I like working metal," Anthony continues and Steven's eyebrow raises.

"Everyone in the castle with ears knows," he snarks and Anthony grins, delighted. He knows he's close to getting to banter with the captain soon.

"Yes, yes. I should speak to Bruce about that. Maybe we could design some nice earplugs."

He says it in jest, but immediately starts thinking about it. That would be interesting, and he's sure that Bruce would love the project. Anthony's brought back to the here and now when the captain coughs. He's got a fond expression on his face, as if already used to Anthony's mind leaping to this and that sometimes.

"Look. I like doing things, it clears my head. And I did something for you."

Captain Rogers looks surprised.

"I don't-" he starts.

"Shush. Here you go," Anthony says, grabbing the shield wrapped in a cloth. He shoves it against Steven's chest, a lot like he did with the sword that first morning, then steps back. His hands are moist and his heart beating fast suddenly. He wants the captain to like it.

Rogers takes the gift and brings it to the table to carefully unswaddle it. He sees the inside of the shield first, with the leather holdings, and he blinks, surprised. Then he flips it and his jaw drops open. Anthony is proud of the result, the new lead enamel looks amazing, and the colors are vibrant. The metal of the shield, and it's curve, are also flawless (as is everything Anthony does, by principle).

"This is-" Rogers starts, then stops. He picks it up and makes a face, probably at the lightness of it.

"Don't be fooled, it's not as flimsy as it looks," Anthony says, wanting to defend his creation.

Rogers puts it on his arm - it's looks superb on him, seriously - and Anthony is dying with the need to know what he thinks of it.

"It's beautiful," he finally says, awed. It's like a ton of lead has lifts off Anthony's shoulders.

"Awesome. Wanna test it?"

It's only because Captain Rogers is gazing at his shield that Anthony can get close enough to grab the pommel of his sword and pull it out.

He expected the soldier to react to that instinctively and isn't disappointed when Rogers pushes him away, hard. Anthony stumbles back but he's laughing, especially because he's has the weapon. The Captain, now that he has had time to process what is happening, looks mortified that he dared put a hand on him.

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Of course you did," Anthony says, taking a battle stance. "I expected nothing less. Now put it up, I to test it with."

He considered asking Rhodey, but he wanted to do that with Rogers himself.

Rogers still looks uneasy, but Anthony just lunges forward without warning and he has to pull up the shield. The hit of metal on metal makes one of the greatest sound on Earth. As he thought, the curve of the shield makes the hit slide on the surface.

"Good," Anthony says. "You okay? Does it vibrate?"

"It's fine. But it will get scratched-"

"I make stuff so they are used, not for show," Anthony says. "Plus I want to test that paint, so. Heads up."

He engages again, a volley of four hits this time, the first blow about as hard as he can give. Steven's sword is the one he forged, and Anthony is pleased to see that he's using it every day and not just for tourney. It holds up pretty well against the shield. Of course the captain is just parrying the blows.

A guard barges in the tent, eyes wild and gapes when he sees the Anthony attacking the captain. He's totally confused and it shows. Anthony laughs again.

"It's fine, we're just playing."

"Yes, no worries Harris," the captain says. "A little exercise."

"Oh, my apologies," Harris replies, backing up.

"Good thinking, though," the captain says. "It's good that you came to check."

"Very good," Anthony adds. "I'll feel secure sleeping tonight with you guarding my tent."

Harris beams. "Thank you, my king."

"Could I have your sword?" Anthony asks.

Immediately Harris steps forward, offering his sword by the pommel, bowing a little. Anthony throws Roger's weapon in his direction, which the captain catches without a hesitation, and gracefully at that. Anthony takes Harris' sword.

"Thank you. Harris is it?"

"Yes my king."

The blade is oiled and as sharp as it can be, but not of the best quality, and nothing that makes it special in his eye. But who knows, maybe the guy won his lady's favor in a duel with it or something.

"Does this weapon hold any sentimental value for you?"

Harris frowns, then shakes his head. "No Your Majesty. I got it a month ago as my old one's handle broke."

"So I can keep it? I'll make sure you get a better one. Go ask Jarvis at once, he'll take care of it. I'll be safe with the captain as you do so, but tell me when you're back."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you my king."

He scurries off and Anthony waits until he's out of earshot to turn to Captain Rogers.

"This blade is barely decent. Are all my soldiers so poorly equipped?"

"We do with what we have, King Anthony. Soldiers rarely have weapons worthy of lords and kings."

"Of course. But surely it could be better than this," he says, hefting the sword. "Let me show you something. Ready?"

Rogers nods and Anthony comes forward and engages in light sparring. Rogers reacts in time to parry the blows, but never tries to take a swing of his own. He doesn't use the shield either since Anthony has none of his own and no armor. Their sword clash, the back and forth fast but relatively easy.

"Pretty much normal, right?" Anthony asks.

"Yes?" Rogers replies.

He's holding his shield by his side, a relaxed stance since he hasn't had to use it to counter Anthony with just sparring blows. Then Anthony turns, gather the momentum and pivots to slash with all of his strength with a horizontal bow at elbow level, both hands on the pommel. He aims at Rogers's ribs but on the side of the shield. If it connected, it would cause serious damage, if not death, but he's confident Rogers will protect himself. He does, raising his shield up and the clash is hard. The subpar blade resonates so much in Anthony's arms that he loses his grip on it and it falls to the ground. _That's unpleasant,_ he thinks as he has so shake his right arm, the almost gone pain in his bicep from the tourney flaring.

Rogers, who'd duck behind the shield to avoid the blow, is looking at him with wide eyes.

"You okay?" Anthony asks. He can read the ' _what the fuck, that man is crazy_ ' clear on the captain's face and it makes him smile a little.

"Yes? Any reason you want me dead?"

The question makes Anthony laugh. "Don't be dramatic, I knew you'd use the shield. I told you I wanted to check something."

He picks Harris' blade from the ground and extends it towards the fire in the middle of the tent to observe the damage. He whistles slowly when it's even better than he thought.

"Is it?" Rogers is coming closer and Anthony gives him the weapon. "It bent. The sword bent."

It's said with an incredulous tone, even though the proof is right there. Harris' sword has curved on the sharp edge where it hit the shield. More and it would look like a scimitar.

"Told you the shield isn’t as flimsy as it looks!" Anthony says with pride. "Give it to me a second?"

Captain Rogers does immediately and Anthony is pleased to see that the paint job hasn't chipped. There's a little groove though, and that makes him frown. Maybe there's something to do to make the enamel recipe even more tear resistant.

"Damn. I'll have to re-paint it, sorry. I'll give it back once I fixed it."

"No!" Rogers exclaims, a hand on the shield and trying to pull it back to him.

Anthony looks up and Rogers is blushing.

"I mean if it's all right with you, King Anthony, I'd like to keep it until we get back to Winterfell? It's only a tiny scratch, it doesn't even show."

It's great that Rogers likes it that much, so Anthony nods, extremely pleased.

"Okay, sure. But let me just show you something else, first." Rogers lets it go and puts his hands behind his back at parade rest.

"You use your shield as a weapon, a lot like you do with your sword. So this," Anthony says, passing a finger on the curved edge of the shield. "Is almost like a blade. Not as sharp, because it would be dangerous for you if you hit your own leg or your head," he says, demonstrating going up and down. "Still, it's pretty damn effective if you need to use it to hit someone else."

Anthony throws Harris' sword on the ground. He then takes the shield firmly by the handles soldered inside near the straps and takes a big swing to bring it down on the now useless blade. As he thought, it's good enough to break it in two, as if made of wood.

Rogers blinks, astonished.

"I suggest you to be careful in tourneys? It could do real damage in a friendly fight," Anthony says, handing the shield back. "I could make you a less dangerous one of you'd like?"

"No, no, I'll be careful. Thank you. This is already too much, I don't," Rogers stammers. "This is…"

"It's amazing?" Anthony suggests.

"Yes." He's nodding emphatically and Anthony grins, taps on Rogers' arm.

It sucks that Rogers isn't interested because he really wants to kiss him. The captain needs to go now before Anthony breaks his own law and insists even after getting a no.

"Good. I'm glad you think so too. Have fun with it?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, so much. It's an honor-"

"Shush shush," Anthony stops him. "You deserve it and I was happy to do it."

"What is this I hear about you sparring with Captain Rogers in the middle of your tent instead of going to sleep?" Rhodey says, entering.

"Hey, Rhodey!"

"Commander Rhodes." Rogers snaps upright, all nice and proper.

"At ease," Rhodey says. "Harris is back at the door with a shiny new sword."

Rodey's eyes are immediately drawn to the shield, then he sees the mangled blade on the ground and he raises his eyebrows.

"Nice," he says, then turns to look at Anthony. "Yours?"

"Well I made it," Anthony agrees. "But it's all his now."

Rogers brings the shield closer to his body, possessive of it already, and it makes Anthony preen on the inside. And quite possibly on the outside, judging by the face Rhodey does.

"Any reason you just made one of the most important men in your army a walking target in vivid colors?"

Which... well Rhodey has a point. "Huh. I could change the colors, I guess. And lose the circles?"

"No, no need," Rogers says emphatically. "It's perfect."

This time Anthony grins. "See? He's the one saying it."

Rhodey rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay. I reserve the right to tell you both 'I told you so' when someone aims at the shield just because it's the most visible target on a battlefield. Now, Rogers, if I could have a moment with the king?"

"Of course, Commander," Rogers says. "Thank you again, King Anthony."

"My pleasure." Anthony can't help but look at Roger's ass while he goes. It's a damn good view.

"So you're at the gift stage of wooing?" Rhodey teases and Anthony snort laughs.

"Gift yes, but I'm pretty sure there's no wooing potential here. No, no, I'm being efficient, equipping one of my best men, as you say, with a worthy weapon."

"A weapon?"

"You've seen him fight! He's as dangerous with a shield than with a sword. Now doubly so," Anthony says, pointing to the broken sword on the ground.

Rhodey bends to get the two pieces and whistles low. "Cut it with the shield?"

"Yeah," Anthony says, rocking back on his heels.

"It's made with-" he raises his eyebrow.

"Yeah, special blend and all," Anthony confirms.

Rhodey nods, impressed. "Nice. So the paint..."

"To cover up for the red shine. Though you're right, it's a bit flashy."

"I've heard you gave arrowheads to Clint, too. Are you trying to bring attention to your special steel? It's dangerous and you know it."

"Come on, it's just little gifts," Anthony says. "And you are just jealous you didn't receive one-"

"I am not jea-"

"- yet," Anthony interrupts.

"You have one for me?" Rhodes cannot even hide his excitement, the faker.

"Of course," Anthony says, rolling his eyes. "I've been working on yours the longest, too."

Rhodey is grinning. "Oh yeah?"

Anthony goes to the wooden chest and takes out Rhodey's gift. Cumbersome, but it's worth it to see the glee on his friend's face.

"There," he says, giving it to Rhodes. "It's just one part of it."

Rhodey unwraps the package and finds a breastplate. Instead of lead paint, on this one Anthony experimented with heating coal and rubbing it on the still hot metal. It gives a dark patina to the surface, grey but more matte than shiny. Anthony etched the Stark direwolf on the front of it, using a diamond bit. There, deep in the grooves, you have the red shine when the light hits it just right, like right now with the fire in the tent. It's pretty cool if he says so himself.

"Wow it's beautiful," Rhodey says, suitably impressed.

"The rest is in Winterfell," Anthony says.

Rhodey looks up, eyes wide. "The rest?"

"Full armor, baby," Anthony says with a waggle of eyebrows. "It's almost done, though you must come over for fittings before I assemble it."

"You made me an Iron Man armor?" Rhodes asks.

"Sure. You're my best friend, only the best for you!"

Rhodey grins. "Wow, thank you," he says coming for a hug. "I can't believe it. And it's so light," he says with glee.

"Oh, wait!" Anthony says. He was forgetting. "I brought another piece!"

It's the sword, one of the best he's made, as his last ones tend to be. It has the same smoky patina with delicate etchings all along the blade. His mother used to draw, too, and he surely has the taste for flourish through his dad. Howard was an inventor, too, in his day, though his interest was more in catapults, cannons and war machines than into arms and armors.

Rhodey reverently unsheathes the sword from its plain grey leather scabbard. "Wow. Just wow."

He slashes it in the air back and forth; Anthony knows it has perfect balance.

"It's like mine, really cuts on one side, regular on the other," Anthony says. He gets a log from near the fire and brings it on the table. Harris' sword was sacrificed for the shield, but this will give an idea. "Don't hit too hard."

Rhodey brings the weapon up like an axe and Anthony winces when he sees the motion, knows his furniture will take a hit. Exactly as he thought the sword goes through the log as if it's butter and Rhodey cleanly cuts the corner of Anthony's table too. James is surprised at the easiness of it, too, and over balances forward. The tip of the blade ends up on the ground, on the remnant of Harris' blade that it cuts too.

The expression on Rhodey's face is worth a thousand gold coins and Anthony burst out laughing out loud.

"Whoa!"

"I told you not to hit hard!"

"But I barely put weight into it!" Rhodey protests. "How do you manage not to cut everyone to pieces with yours, geez!"

"Practice and self restraint," Anthony says with a wink. "Should come easily to you."

"Well damn. I'll take this baby out only for serious business, then."

Hopefully, it doesn’t get much use, but Anthony doesn't voice it out loud.


	7. Chapter 7

The shield raises some eyebrows and starts whispers in the camp, but frankly Steven is too elated to care. His mind is still reeling from the tests they've done in the king's tent, proving how strong it is while being so light. Plus it's gorgeous and was made with uttermost care just for him. Because the king likes the way he fights. Even if he wasn't infatuated with the guy, Steven would be ecstatic.

Plus he can't stop thinking about how easily fighting came to King Anthony. Sure, nobles and princes especially get tutored in the art of combat from a very young age, but it's rare to see it bear fruit to this degree. The king is quick as a cat, and even if he's of average height at best, all of that smithing gives him the muscle mass to put some power behind the blows. Steven had a moment of fear when the King had swung around to hit the shield at full power. Hard enough that Harris' blade had _bended_. He still can't get over that. And he's not talking about cutting the old blade in half with the edge, that was another total mind fuck.

That night, Steven puts the shield by his cot and runs his fingers on the grooves etched into it, the circles and star, until he drifts asleep. The next day, though, he can't wait to test it. He goes to the edge of the camp where he knows a couple of men spar in their regular morning routine. He isn't surprised to see Barton, who smiles when he sees him.

"Hey Captain."

"Lord Barton," Steven says with a head nudge.

He makes a face. "Oh, no. Please. Clint or Barton, but let's keep the lord unsaid."

"If you insist," Steven concedes. Why do they all ask for such familiarity though? Using Barton's name should certainly come easier for him than for the king, though.

"I do." He smiles and points at the shield. "So the rumors are true."

"Rumors?" Steven asks, willing himself not to blush.

He's heard men talking near the cook's tent earlier, through the canvass. One soldier mentioned he was surprised that the captain had been swayed, and another replying that Steven must have put out good to get a gift like that. They'd laughed and Steven was mortified that they would mis-construct the gift of the shield like that. But then it had put a doubt in his mind: was the king trying to buy his affection where words had failed?

Barton unknowingly puts his mind at ease when he replies with a smile. "Yeah. That Tony adopted you as one of his own. You know it's official when he gives extravagant but practical gifts."

"The king is very generous."

"Sure. Many ladies and lads have received jewelry, but very few got steel."

Steven looks down at his shield and smiles. He'd take it over chests full of jewelry a hundred times over. "I guess I'm just that lucky, then."

Barton laughs. "Yep. You came to test it? Wanna spar?"

"Definitely," Steven says.

They engage and exchange blows for a couple of minutes, the shield deflecting any kind of attacks beautifully. Since Barton doesn't have a shield of his own or even mail on, Steven doesn't get to practice hitting with his shield, but resolves to try later.

The camp is fully animated, now mostly packed and ready to go by the time Steven and Barton stop testing the shield. Barton stretches and whistles for his squire.

"Get my horse and bow, please?"

"Yes my lord."

"Scouting today?" Steven asks. Commander Rhodes made all the schedules, but Steven has memorized them. He have the gift to retain such details if he sees them once.

"Yes, thank the Gods. Not that I don't like chatting up in the caravan, but my horse is getting vicious by being in close quarters all the time, he needs to run."

Barton's brown stallion indeed looks a little wild around the eyes, as it dances in place before Clint leaps easily onto its back. Bucky told him that the rumor is that Barton, as a young man, had joined a caravan of entertainers doing shows with animals. It had gravely angered his lord father and was said to be the main reason Barton was sent as a ward in Casterly Rock. There, the two rebellious lordlings – Barton and Stark - had met and had soon become thick as thieves. It was said that many had despaired when they had bonded, especially King Thor's brother and Warden of the West, Loki.

"I'll ride forward, then double back on the western side."

Steen nods. "Good idea. See you later."

"Later Captain!" Barton says with a little salute, reigning in his horse before turning it around to trot along the caravan that has started to move at last.

Steven sees Barton stop by King Anthony on his gorgeous black stallion, and they exchange a couple of words. They both laugh, then Barton leaves for his assignment.

"I brought your horse Captain Rogers," Peter says. He'd been ecstatic at being chosen to leave Winterfell for the first time in his life. It seems he's still walking on a cloud, smile stretched on his face as goes around doing his job of caring for the horse.

"Thank you Peter."

He reaches for Snowpiercer's bridle as the horse nuzzles the side of his head affectionately. He's a good horse, but Steven had left him in Winterfell the last time he'd went up to the wall because he was healing from a bout of colics. It's been a joy to ride him again in the last couple of days. Steven taps Snowpiercer's shoulder before he climbs on its back.

"Good boy."

He's supposed to keep an eye on the rear of the column today. He glances a last time towards the king with a bit of longing before joining his post. He vastly prefers riding at the king's side, who keeps telling the most extravagant tales. It's as if King Anthony's goal is either to scandalize him or to make him laugh. Steven tries to keep a straight face, but it's not easy. They both know it's a game, one that Steven enjoys a lot, and the hours fly by. Yes, he has it bad.

It's a nice enough day, though a bit overcast. Hopefully it won't rain and soak everything. They are about two third of the way in their trek to the wall by now. They'll have to tent tonight, and then maybe another time before Castle Black if they don't push. Steven leaves Commander Rhodes at the head of the column set the pace and then makes sure that his section is keeping up. At the moment the caravan is a bit too stretched to Steven's liking, the king tiny in front. It would be best if he stayed more in the middle, to be better protected, but then again King Anthony does what he wants. When, on their first day, Steven mentioned his concern, Commander Rhodes had rolled his eyes. He'd said that keeping King Anthony in line was like herding cats, but not to worry about it too much. That he wasn't helpless. With the little sparring they did the night before, Steven is slightly reassured.

To get to the Wall, there's a section through the Lonely Hills with rougher terrain, with more outcrops. Steven has been plagued with a bad feeling for an hour now, something making him uneasy. A look forward shows that the column has stretched again, and Steven is about to urge the men around him to haul it when suddenly the shadows are moving. He shouts in alarm but it's second before the actual assault. They are being attacked by a force at least five times their number, and at first glance no banner or sigil identifies their foes.

Steven is forced to react then at least ten men rush him personally, a flurry of men and horses, plus several others on foot. His new shield up for protection, Steven hits back desperately. He's swarmed and has to fight to find space to maneuver. Snowpiercer was brought up and trained to be a war horse, but it's his first real battle. He's kicking and bucking up, enough that Steven is afraid to lose balance. Fortunately Snowpiercer's fierceness does help, and Steven gets out of the middle of the group. There are three men down at least, and finally Steven manages to spare a glance towards the front of the column.

His worst fear is confirmed as there are even more enemy forces over there. Even though he's valiantly fighting back, the king is in trouble. He got separated from the commander, and seems at risk of being overwhelmed, which makes Steven's stomach drop. They can't lose another king. Not right now, not under his watch and certainly not this king, who has the reputation of a dissipated libertine but wants things to change. Who makes Steven laugh and blush in turn, who's he came to care for against his will. Steven urges Snowpiercer forward, but a violent collision on his side unseats him, feet getting out of the stirrups. Steven falls on the ground, hard, but fortunately the sword that sweeps down to finish him hits the shield and is derailed.

Steven gets back on his feet, sword in one hand and shield in the other, and fights with all that he has. It becomes a blur of hits and parries, ducking and hitting as much with the sword than with the shield. He's not reining in his blows at all, and the damages the shield can inflict if phenomenal, crushing metal helmets and breastplates like cardboard and damaging swords. It gives him a vicious amount of satisfaction in the middle of such a terrible situation. Steven has lost his horse, but he tries to go up the column anyway, desperate to get to the king.

The shouts and cries from the battle are cut by two short blows of a horn. Suddenly the enemies are retreating, leaving everything to run. Steven pivots and he cannot see the king anymore, which means he's down; it's like ice is poured down his back. When one of the leaders of the assault turns away after slaying one of Winterfell's men, Steven throws the shield at his back in frustration: the impact is enough to make the man fall from his horse. The shield ricochets and comes back his way and Steven catches it in passing, stunned at the incident. On the other hand... He throws it again towards one of the enemy and is extremely pleased when he can achieve the same result.

It's with frustration that Steven notes that the enemy force is now getting too far to catch up. The man he's looking at is then pierced with an arrow and falls off his horse. Immediately another falls in the same matter, and one more, arrows coming fast and always to the head or the neck. Steven looks up and sees Lord Barton on the top of a little hill, notching and firing so fast it's almost inhuman. He does so until he's out of arrows, then doubles up, leaning on his bow. He's hurt, Steven realizes, and probably needs help. Steven looks around and sees Peter, eyes a little wild and clutching a sword with white knuckled fingers.

"Peter!" Steven says firmly, walking to him.

"Captain Rogers," he answers. Peter looks about to go in shock, now that the battle is done. Giving him a purpose will delay the reaction.

"Are you hurt?"

Peter looks down at himself, pats his arm and side, then looks back up. "No, I think I'm good. You?"

"I'm fine." He's bruised, maybe a has a cracked rib, but the few hits that got to him are a bit of a blur. "But I think Lord Barton is hurt," Steven says, pointing to the top of the hill. "Go help him, please."

"Yes Captain." Immediately Peter looks better, and he sheathes his sword. He then runs to the kitchen chariots, probably to get some water and maybe rags for bandages. Good call.

Steven is dying of thirst himself, but he can't think about that right now. Snowpiercer looks fine but is too far away, so Steven grabs a wandering horse – probably from the assailants - and jumps on its back. The mount obeys his command without trouble and Steven gallops towards the head of the column. Commander Rhodes is addressing a group of men around him.

"Leo, Bryce, Asher, get a partner. All of you grab a horse, food, and find their tail. Start this way," he says, pointing South. "Split when necessary and be careful, they'll try to lead you on wild goose chases or eliminate you. When you find their camp, or at sundown tomorrow if you haven't still found it, one half of the pair comes back and reports and the other continues. I need to know where they have gone!"

"Yes Commander!" the men say in one voice.

Steven dismounts and he's scanning the ground desperately, trying to find the king among the men lying on the ground. He can't understand why there aren't people around him already, trying to save him if it's possible. King Anthony is wearing black cape today, a lot less visible than his usual red, and Steven is irrationally annoyed at that. But all the corpses he sees, because those men are definitely dead, are from the enemy force. It's been a carnage, with arms severed, heads too, and some men's armors have been ripped open down their front. There's blood everywhere, but no king; Steven is stunned and realizes that Commander Rhodes has been calling his name when he gets poked in the shield by the tip of his sword.

"Sorry, Commander," he says with a start, coming back to the present.

"Are you okay, Captain?" Commander Rhodes is frowning, looking worried.

Steven nods. "Yes, yes, sorry. Where's the king?"

Commander Rhodes' face contort in fury. "They've got him, dammit. When they saw that they wouldn't get to him by force, not even at ten against one, not with the sword, one of those cowards threw a rock at his head that knocked him out cold." 

Steven can feel the blood drain from his face. If the king fell to the ground, horses could have trampled him-

"They took him," Commander Rhodes is saying, "grabbed him right off Titanium and ran. Fuck!"

The commander is enraged and frustrated, and he turns and slashes his sword at a small three, wide as a fist. To Steven's complete astonishment the blade cuts the tree clear in two in that one swoop. Rhodes then throws the sword to the ground and kicks it away.

"Goddamnit! I'm not worthy of this, not if I can't even use it to protect my king!"

So the post battle meltdown is getting to Commander Rhodes, too. Steven bends down to pick up the sword. It's incredibly light and under the blood and grime absolutely gorgeous with fine etchings that reflect the light. Upon seeing it Steven is absolutely convinced it was a gift from King Anthony.

"Looks to me as if you used it fine," Steven says, gesturing around.

"I lost it. I stupidly got hit on the arm and dropped it," Rhode says, coming back, eyes on the sword. Steven turns it around and offers it pommel first. The commander takes it back and drags a finger on the flat of it reverently. "By the time I got it back, he was gone."

"There was no way to have the upper hand with so many of them," Steven says, even though he hates to admit it. "I'll get some supplies, get on their trail before it gets cold."

Commander Rhodes looks up and frown. "No, no, I've got that covered. I'll stay to coordinate the search, you need to take the other men and go back to Winterfell."

Steven doesn't like this, not one bit.

"But-" he starts to protests.

"Listen to me," Commander Rhodes says. "We all want him back, but we've got to be smart about this. Those men weren't here to kill him, they wanted to take Tony. Who knows what they'll ask for as ransom, or what they'll do next. Maybe they're planning to take Winterfell, and that cannot happen. I can't spare my best officer on a foot chase, I need you to take charge at the castle."

"But Bucky-"

"Sergeant Barnes and Sergeant Wilson are fine soldiers, but the men don't follow them like they do for you."

"What about you?" Steven says. He knows he's skirting insubordination right now.

Commander Rhodes' eyebrows climb on his forehead. "I take the decision, and I decided to coordinate the search. Do you have a problem with that, Captain?"

It takes a lot, but Steven breaks eye contact and looks at the ground. He hates this, so much. "No, no, of course not," Steven mumbles.

"I get it," Commander Rhodes says, tone a lot more gentle. "Tony he just… he's a brat, but one day you realize he got under your skin."

Steven has problems swallowing. He nods.

"Yeah. And if it's of any consolation to you, under the circumstances, he's quite taken with you, too. Just won't shut up."

It makes something twist in Steven's stomach. Maybe, just maybe, the king wanted him for more than just sex until he got bored. Maybe Steven fucked up, and passed on something that could have been great. Maybe he won't ever get the chance to try, after all, because the king got taken from under his nose.

"He needs to be okay," Steven says, voice hoarse.

"Agreed. I will search the Seven Kingdoms if need be. I swear I'll get him back. And never underestimate Tony, whoever took him just got themselves a lot of trouble."

Steven manages to smile a little. "I bet."

He looks at the men, on the ground. Even up close there are no sign of whom they work for, which of course complicates things. Under a man to his left he sees a golden sword grip where the pommel is in the shape of a direwolf, and it makes his stomach swoop. He knows that handle, has admired it from afar, like he's done with a lot of things about the king. Steven pushes a body aside, and picks up the sword, marveling again at the craftsmanship. It's even lighter than Commander Rhodes' blade, being a bit shorter, and the blade is red all over with blood. Good, he thinks. At least he made them pay. He's still looking at the weapon when Commander Rhodes takes it from him.

"Oh, great, thanks. I'll keep that."

Steven almost protests, but on what grounds? The Commander is the king's best friend, the head of his armies. Of course he'll hold on to his sword and will be the one to give it back.

Instead Steven looks around, sees the soldier organizing and tending their wounds, while others are carrying the assailant bodies to the side of the road. They'll make them burn, the tradition too entrenched now since the last long winter. It's with a frown that Steven realizes that they do not have prisoners, only dead men.

"Who are they, anyway?"

"I tried to ask earlier, just before you got here. The man used cyanide, in a hollow tooth," Commander Rhodes says. "I wouldn't be surprised to learn that all the injured did the same, and if so it's almost a visit card."

"Hydra," Steven says, spitting on the ground. "But why? Why King Anthony, and why now?"

"Find that, and you'll find him," Commander Rhodes says.

Steven nods. "Understood. I'll leave for Winterfell in the hour."


	8. Chapter 8

Returning to consciousness is painful, a situation he's unfortunately well acquainted with. But this isn't emerging from a hangover after too much liquor and wine, or from a two days working streak in the smithy, it's way worse. It's like his head is an anvil, actually, the pain pulsing through his skull. He's being jolted, which of course doesn't help. In seconds he realizes he's bound, and that he's been thrown astride a horse with a hood over his head. The details of the battle comes back and there's no way to mis-construct this: he's been kidnapped. How great.

Anthony hears at least two other horses that are keeping up with the one he's on. The riders are silent, so there isn't much to learn right now, even by feigning unconsciousness. The pace is brutal and the breath of the horse he's on is labored. Visibly it's in distress and it angers Anthony even more. For sure there might be reasons for kidnapping him and in the process treat him badly, like politics or the hope of a ransom. But this poor animal hasn't done anything but having the misfortune of being owned by questionable characters. Fortunately, his keeper starts to slow down a few minutes in, and if he's attentive Anthony can hear voices. Clearly there are too many men to pull off an evasion tentative at this point, so he stays limp as the horse comes to a stop, breath wheezing now.

"Here, fast! You and you double back as planned! You two, transfer him here. Problems?"

"No, no tail close enough to detect," says his rider, unsaddling.

"He awake?" The man in charge of the change up asks. He's got a peculiar raspy voice.

"Don't think so. Didn't struggle, anyway."

Anthony is lifted from the first horse and all but thrown on another unceremoniously. He's tempted to struggle, if only to be contrary.

"Not important. I don't see the sword? Who has it?"

That's a very interesting question. Not a lot of people know that Anthony's sword is special. A big total of four people know for sure, Jarvis, Clint, Rhodey and now Obadiah, and maybe five if Pepper was observant enough. And of those five, Anthony would trust four with his life. Did Obadiah babble to the wrong people and gave some fame seeker ideas? Lots of people would love to get their hands on the Iron Man.

"Well-" one of the escorts drawls, stalling.

"Where's the fucking sword?" Raspy shouts. It doesn't suit him at all, it sounds all weird.

"We had to knock the king out because we couldn't get to him, he dropped the sword as he fell," Rider says, getting on the saddle. "Little Joe and Sadon tried to get to the damn thing, but they were chopped to fucking pieces by the commander who was coming in hot. I had him, I was next, but I figured you'd want at least the king, of not the king and the sword."

Anthony has to give it to Rider, he stays calm in the face of a possible superior throwing a fit.

Raspy makes a noise of frustration. "Dammit! The instructions were clear!"

"They were impossible to follow. Do you want me to return him? Or we kill him right now if he's of no use."

"Watch your mouth," Raspy says. "I was given clear instructions, and someone's going to pay because they haven't been followed. I'm delivering him as planned, they'll decide what to do if he's useless."

"That's what I thought."

"Go! You know where the next change is, go fast. You, you and you, with him as instructed. Take that pathetic horse with you, let it go in three leagues."

"Going," Rider says urging his new horse into a gallop. A handful of seconds later, out of hearing distance, he adds, "prick."

Anthony has got to agree. That man sounded unpleasant.

With the hood and practically upside down, it's impossible for Anthony to guess where he is or even in which direction they are going. His head is still hurting a whole lot, the rocking on the horse not helping anything. Also his arms, tied behind his back, are starting to get numb from bad circulation. He zones out, trying to manage the pain with controlled breathing, but it's not working out so well. In fact, he's feeling confined, has no fucking idea what they want, and the stress is starting to get to him. He's pretty sure he loses consciousness a couple of times through however long the ride lasts. He's not just imagining that it's long hours, because they are regularly changing horses, and the animals are pushed to the limit each time. At this pace, he must be hundreds of leagues from where he was taken already. The hope that Rhodey, or the captain maybe, will find him promptly dim with the hours.

At last he hears shouts of a different nature, and the horse is now trotting on wood, then stone. This time when the horse stills, Anthony is not immediately put on another. Instead, Rider leaves him on the cold ground; the fact that it's a hard unmoving surface is disorienting, but welcome. It doesn't last, though, as he hears three men approach. If only he had his hand free, or could at least assess the situation...

"Bring him in," one of the new men says. Anthony cannot place him, but he's heard that voice before.

"Who is it?" One of the guys who picked him up asks. He must be big because Anthony was lifted fast and easy, without even a grunt.

"Not your problem," the first man says. "He didn't cause trouble?"

"Not since I knocked him out," Rider says.

"What?"

"To get him. I had to throw a rock at his head," Rider says, sounding absolutely unapologetic.

"He's of no use brain dead, idiot!"

Well, that his head is needed is reassuring. There's the possibility he won't be killed, at least not at first. They did make sure Anthony made it all the way wherever they are mostly unharmed after the kidnapping itself.

He's now being dragged through rooms, corridors and down several flights of stairs. The information is important if he has to get out. He tries his best to map out the directions in his head, and counts the steps his two muscled friends are taking before each turn.

"Do you know who it is?" Muscle One from earlier asks.

"No one tells me anything," Muscle Two replies. He doesn't sound bothered about it.

"Yeah. Me neither. Got nice clothes and boots though. Too bad he's a midget."

Anthony would protest, but he's got a feeling that four of him wouldn't make one of them.

"True, real classy. He's probably for ransom, like the last."

"He'll probably tell us. They always try to barter."

Muscle Two chuckles. "Yeah. Pathetic, the lot of them. I'd like to be bought, but then I'd end up dead, so no thanks."

"Uh huh."

At last, Anthony is transferred totally to Muscle Two and there are rusty hinges cracking. Three step and he's dropped on the ground again. 

"There you go," Muscle One says. "Home sweet home."

"Don't shout, no one will care," Muscle Two says. "It will just annoy us, and that's no good for you."

Do they know he's awake? It's not really important because the hinges are protesting again and the door clangs closed. There is the unmistakable sound of a reinforced bar being put down to block it, and a key in a lock.

It looks like the ride is over, for now.

The ropes binding his arms are around the wrists, only, and similarly his legs are tied at the ankles. He won't wait however long for someone to come and untie him without trying to get free first. He's played along until now, being the nice unresponsive kidnapped victim, but enough of that.

With real agony in his shoulders, Anthony gets to his knees, and then bends backward until he can reach the ropes at his ankles. His fingers are a bit numb, but he carefully touches the knots to figure out what he's dealing with. Fortunately, it's nothing too complicated, though they've been tightened a lot which will require some effort.

Anthony gets to work, and it's tough to get even a little give in the rope. Every couple of minutes – and more and more frequently – he has to straighten up, his back killing him. A fingernail is even sacrificed to the cause by accident; it hurts like a bitch, but the blood turns out to help. After maybe an hour of hard work Anthony finally manages get rid of the restraint binding his legs. The satisfaction is immense, and as a reward Anthony gets up and does a couple of squats, to gets his blood circulation flowing. He still has the hood and his hands bound, so he immediately gets back to work.

Getting rid of the rope at his wrists is going to be a lot more difficult. Anthony crouches back down on the ground and does as little a ball as he can. He isn't normally a contortionist by any means, but his only hope is to pass through the circle of his arms to bring them in front of his body. Anthony slides his bound hands over his ass, only to end up awkwardly hugging his thighs as he takes a break. He'd look totally ridiculous if someone was to come in now. He rocks backwards to end up sitting, still hugging his thighs. After a pause, he wiggles and pulls, stretching his arms as far as they can go and biting down on a scream at how much it fucking hurts. For a couple of minutes, he's sure that he won't be able to clear his legs, but when he gets a knee out, it suddenly becomes manageable. He frees one leg, then the next, and stops to pant, rolling his shoulders.

Before he works on the knots, Anthony pulls the hood off his head. He's bracing for light and it's disorienting when there's nothing. After two seconds of pitch black darkness, Anthony worries that he was actually brain damaged enough to become blind, and he almost has a panic attack. He can't, he can't be blind, the thought is too big and scary to comprehend. In between shaky breaths, though, he catches a spot in the darkness that hints to a bit of light, tiny but there. He wants to go there, check what it is for himself, but he can't, not bound like this. Now that he's calmer, slowly Anthony's eyes get used to his surrounding. He's not blind, just in a room made to make him feel like it.

Psychological warfare, for sure. Whoever took him, they want to break him. Make him feel weak. It's working, at least a little, but for goddamn sure Anthony's going to do his best not to show it. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get the stiffness out, then walks opposite from the hint of light. It's probably the door, and whenever the men who took him come to gloat, Anthony wants as much distance between them as possible. It might at least give a tad more time to react or at least think. He reaches a wall maybe five yards deeper in the room, solid and cold. They must be thick, too, because there are barely any sounds. Anthony sits with his back to the wall and starts to work on the knots at his wrists.

This time he uses his teeth and spit, and it's a lot faster even though he can't see for shit. He makes a sound of triumph when he loosens the last knot, and the rope finally falls to the ground. Anthony immediately starts rubbing his shoulders, arms, wrists and fingers, encouraging the blood flow. It's painful and he's sure to be sore sooner rather than later, but he doesn't think there will be lasting damage.

Now that he's free, in a manner of speaking, Anthony gets up and feels his way around the room by touch. It's of medium size, ten big steps across. The walls and ground are rough and made of stone, probably a jail cell or a dungeon. There are two openings, one being a heavy door he must have gotten in through. It's the source of the tiny bit of light, sneaking in near a hinge. The door has no doorknob, and can only be opened from outside. The hinges are also on the outside which means working on them to get out isn't an option. Anthony was surprised to find another door on a side-wall, smaller and less massive than the first. This this one has a handle that is currently locked. Unfortunately, Anthony doesn't have anything on his person that he can use to pick it. On the walls are a couple of torch holders, and in a corner he finds hay, which he supposes will be his bedding. Awesome, he itches just thinking about it. Anthony himself is not in great shape, with the headache and contusions, but it would be worse. He's not hungry, he has the bad habit to not eat for long period of times when he works, but he's very thirsty.

The waiting game starts gain, for which Anthony sits directly opposite of the main door. It takes a long time, enough that he dozes off. He can only imagine how he'd feel if he was still bound like a trussed animal on the ground, in a cell that is almost silent. At last, there's some clanking at the door and it opens. Anthony stands up, keeping his back to the wall. He tries to stare at the new comers without flinching, but the torches are so bright that he instinctively puts a hand up to shield his eyes. The silhouettes turn into three tall men, two of them holding the torches as they walk in the room. It takes only a second for Anthony to recognize the third.

"Ward," he says, spitting on the ground. "I always knew you were bad news."

"Aww, you'll hurt my feelings," Ward says with his usual annoying little smirk.

One of the guards, upon seeing him up and unbound, immediately puts his hand on the pommel of his sword. He's eying him as if he could bite.

"Do you want me to tie him up again, Ser?" he asks Ward. "He's dangerous."

It's the guy who knocked him out, Anthony realizes. The Rider who brought him all the way over here. Anthony was right, he's big, and even though it's flattering that Rider thinks of him as a threat, right now being unarmed he has no chance at all.

"Nah, not for now," Ward says. "I agree our guest can fight, but he is also a reasonable man, right?"

"Guest?" Anthony says, raising his eyebrows. "Wow, if that's how you treat your guests, I wouldn't want to be a prisoner. Oh, shoot."

Ward laughs. "Funny. I've always found you funny. You," he says to the other guard, who's a head taller than Ward and Rider, "Out. Close the door and stand guard."

"Yes Ser."

Once the henchman is gone, Anthony asks, "what do you want, Ward?"

Ward laughs. "What I want? Wow, where to start. But it's not important, you are here because of what we need."

"We? Who is we?" Anthony asks, weary.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Ward says. "You are not in the position to ask questions at the moment. Let me make things very clear: no one will rescue you here. And not one person in this place will help either."

"That remains to be seen," Anthony says. Rhodey and Clint never, ever let him down. And he has a feeling that the Winterfell men, the Captain among others, won't leave a rock unturned in the North until they find him.

"Aww, optimism. So cute, but futile," Ward says. "It's recognized by all that you are a very intelligent man, so let's get to the point."

He walks to the second door and takes a key out of his pocket. Curious, Anthony cranes his neck, and tries to see as Ward goes into the other room. The guard, Rider, stays in the room with him, hand still on his sword's pommel, and gestures for him to follow. Anthony hates to comply, but he does, indeed, want to know why he's here.

It turns out that the second room is a fully equipped smithy, the heart cold at the moment. Anthony's stomach drops: no need to be a genius to guess what Ward wants.

"That's right," Ward says, obviously having seen the expression on his face. "You'll make us swords, the special ones."

"Never," Anthony says. Those blades are way too dangerous to end in the hands of people without morals. It's the reason so few exist, and in the possession of only trustworthy people.

Ward sighs, as if Anthony is the unreasonable one. "I was afraid this would happen."

He walks over and Anthony, fists closed at his sides, clamps his jaw and looks up at him defiantly. "I will not make you anything."

The punch comes so fast that Anthony doesn't have time to react. It connects with his jaw, hard, and he falls to the ground, head ringing. The headache that had abated a little starts anew, pain exploding in his head and he can't refrain a groan.

"Avon, Put him back in the cell," Ward says, leaving without a look back.

He's dragged into the other room, the door to the smithy locked again. Rider now known as Avon leaves with the torches, sending Anthony back into darkness once again.

***

For the second time in a month, Steven gallops to Winterfell because he lost a king. If he was distraught and guilt ridden the first time, now he's pissed. He pushes Snowpiercer all night, stopping only to cool him down a bit and make him drink. He knows he can take it. As soon as he can he switches for a fresh horse, and then as often as possible. He's back in Winterfell by the following end of day, having undone four days of travel in one and a half.

The portcullis is down and Steven thunders in, the guards having recognized him from afar. He's leaving his horse at the entrance of the stables when Bucky comes running, face serious. They must have gotten the crow.

"Hey," he says, welcoming Steven with a hug. He's always known when he needs them.

For just a second, Steven allows himself to sag in the embrace, but then he pats Bucky's back and straightens up.

"Hi. News from Commander Rhodes?" Steven had entertained, for a moment, the fantasy that he'd get to Winterfell and learn that King Anthony had been found.

"Still searching," Bucky says, mouth a terse line. Shoot.

"Ransom demands?"

"Not yet."

"Any trouble here?" Steven asks. He needs to know everything.

"Not even someone suspicious. We sent birds and as of now, there hasn't been any out of the ordinary activity. Apart, you know..." He trails, probably sensing how agitated Steven is. "How are you?" Bucky asks, looking worried.

"Fine," Steven dismisses.

"Have you slept? You can't have," Bucky accuses.

"I'm fine, I said." He's too wired to sleep, still.

"Come on, Counselor Obadiah asked to see you as soon as you arrived," Bucky says. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry," Steven says, unhooking his shield from the side of the horse and already walking towards the council room. Obadiah should be there at this time of the day, and he guesses it's right because Bucky doesn't redirect him.

Unhappy with his answer, Bucky makes a displeased sound. "Debrief and then you need to eat and take a nap."

"There's no time!" Steven says, raising his voice. "I ate riding, I said I'm fine."

Bucky grabs his arm and Steven faces him, scowling.

"You're not going to be of use to anyone, least of all the king, if you run yourself into the ground!" Bucky says, just as annoyed. "I'm not saying you take a week of vacations! I say you need to eat and get a nap, you stubborn ass!"

It's out of care and worry, Steven knows that, but it wouldn't be him if he wasn't difficult about those things.

"We'll see how the debrief goes," he concedes. If there is one tiny thing that needs his attention, he'll do that instead.

"Fine," Bucky says, letting his arm go.

They walk in silence to the council room where Merek and Ulric are standing guard. It's a good idea, since Obadiah is the heir to the throne if King Anthony is gone, by virtue of being King Howard's second cousin. Unless King Anthony has a child somewhere, as the rumors goes, but Steven doesn't want to think about that. It must be lies, anyway, because he cannot believe that King Anthony would leave a child, even a bastard, in need somewhere. Or he supports them already in secret, and Steven bats that idea way like an annoying fly. Unverified rumors are not of importance right now.

"Captain," Obadiah says as he enters. "That was fast."

"I did as fast as I could," Steven says, inclining his head. "Counselor. Sergeant Wilson."

"Welcome home Captain," Sam says with a small smile, visibly pleased to see him. It lacks Sam's usual exuberance, though. There are bags under his eyes and he looks exhausted. Everyone must be tired and overworked, with the king's kidnapping.

Steven takes a moment to greet him with a hug. When he draws back, Bucky gives him a cup of wine and Steven gratefully takes a sip. The road is always dusty, and he hadn't realized he was that thirsty.

"We're putting the information we have on this map," Obadiah says, bending over the table. "Care to verify the information we received concerning the position of the attack?"

"Of course," Steven says. A quick look at the map shows that the mark is only slightly off. He takes a quill, adds details. "It was here, we'd passed the Last River the night before. There are rock formations in this area, here, here and here," Steven says, adding to the topography shown. "They waited until the whole column was encased to launch the attack."

"Commander Rhodes says that the rider carrying King Anthony went full South," Sam says, passing the little parchment over.

"Yes. The commander sent three pairs of riders in pursuit, but I haven't heard… Do we have news?" Steven asks.

"Sadly no," Obadiah says, hands on his hips and frowning at the map. "They've found an abandoned grey mount that fits the description of the one used by the rider who took Anthony. The kidnapper's team has split, there are multiple trails."

"Nothing distinctive about the saddle or else," Bucky says.

"Of course not," Steven says, sighing. He goes to take another gulp of wine and realizes he drank the whole cup during the conversation without even realizing it. He's distracted by that fact when he continues. "Hydra leaves no proof."

Three pairs of eyes are suddenly on him.

"Hydra?" Bucky hisses, his demeanor changing entirely to become aggressive.

Steven winces, he must be more tired than he thought. He had planned on preparing his friend before divulging this particular piece of information. Bucky went to war in the East with Thor's army six years past and had gone missing in action after a year. In fact, Steven had received the news of his death, which had been a blow. He would have left everything to go look for him but he'd just been sent on a front line too. Steven owed his men to stay even if he ached to go.

Bucky returned to Winterfell four years later after being captured, hair long and eyes haggard but fierce, led by Sam. In circumstances that are still unclear to Steven - they refuse to talk about it - Sam had liberated Bucky and other prisoners from Hydra. Sam then took on himself to bring his best friend home. Bucky never talks about what Hydra did to him for all of this time either, not even to Steven. In time, he might. Or not.

"Highly probable," Steven says, and wonders why Commander Rhodes hasn't mentioned it. "Lots of cyanide suicides."

"But there is no proof," Obadiah asks, intent. "No one was questioned?"

"Not that I know of," Steven says. "Once they retreated, the rest of them were all dead."

Obadiah nods. "I see. Now tell us exactly what happened."

Steven does, with as much details that he can recall. He stops at getting to Commander Rhodes and realizing the king was gone. God. He's gone. It's been days, now. Why hasn't any ransom demands been made?

"Hey, hey, Steve," Bucky says, shaking his sleeve.

It's like being snapped out of a fugue. "You missed a couple of seconds there, buddy."

"Sorry," Steven says. "I'm fine."

"You need a nap," Sam says.

It makes Steven roll his eyes. "Not you too!"

"I have to agree," Obadiah says. "We need you rested to devise our strategy."

Steven wants to protest but his body betrays him when he can't refrain a yawn which makes both Bucky and Sam smirk.

"Okay, okay," Steven says. "I'll get something to eat and sleep a couple of hours."

"That's all we ask," Bucky says, clapping his shoulder.

Steven yawns again and eyes his empty cup, then Bucky, with narrow eyes.

"Did you?" he asks.

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Just wine, idiot. Seems like it was enough. Come on before you face plant and I need help to carry your fat ass to bed."

"I'm not fat," Steven protests.

"Muscle is heavier than fat, so," Bucky counters.

When they reach the kitchen, it's busy, as usual. A young kitchen aid immediately comes to them.

"My lords," he says, curtsying.

"I'd want a dinner tray, please."

"We have roasted boar, potatoes and carrots. Would that be suitable?"

"It would be perfect, thank you."

"Add some bread and cheese, and soup if you have some ready." Bucky adds.

"Of course my lord," the boy says, immediately starting to fetch the food.

"I'm not that hungry," Steven says.

"You are, you'll just realize it when you start eating," Bucky says. "I know you."

As they wait for the boy to prepare a tray, Bucky raps his knuckles on Steven's shield. "That's nifty."

Steven smiles, even though thinking about the night before the kidnapping is bittersweet now. If only he'd knew to stay closer.

"Yeah," Steven says, passing it over. "Gift from the king, he made it."

Bucky whistles. "Neat. Wow, it's so light. Isn't it dangerous if it gets bashed in?"

 

It makes Steven laugh. "Not a chance. Hold it up."

With no small measure of doubt, Bucky holds the shield defensively. They are not that far from the fire, so Steven takes a fire poker. It's solid iron, sturdy.

"Keep it up," Steven says. He swings and hits with all of his strength, twisting at the hips.

The sound of metal on metal resonates like a church bell, making many people in the kitchen jump in alarm. Someone even drops a pitcher and Steven winces. No one looks more surprised than Bucky, though, mouth round as he looks at the poker. A lot like Harris' sword, it's bent. It's almost bent like an elbow, in fact.

"Holy shit," Bucky says and Steven laughs, wondering if his face was as comical as this.

"Nifty it is," Steven says, winking at his friend.

"Holy fucking shit!" Bucky says again.

"I know," Steven says. "I tested it a bit, and it's just… it's perfect."

He takes the shield back from Bucky as he sits down. He hasn't had it long, but already he finds himself reluctant to leave it in someone else's hands for too long. Even if it's his best friend.

"I'd heard he was good, and I saw that sword he made you, too, but that's a whole different level," Bucky says, justly appreciative.

"Yeah, the sword he made in a single night, in a smithy he didn't know, with someone else's steel. He's more than good."

The kitchen aid has come back with two trays, the one he asked for and another with bread and cheese for Bucky. That little attention seems to delight him.

"Hey, thank you!"

"My pleasure, my lord," the boy says with a smile. "Glad to have you back, Captain."

"Thank you."

Steven and Bucky walk to Steven's quarter, that he finds with a warm bath drawn. Bucky laughs at what must be quite a longing look on his face.

"See? Take your time, eat, sleep and then come to find me."

"Okay," Steven says, surrendering at last. He hugs Bucky before he goes. "Thanks."

"You'd do the same for me."

True. Once by himself, Steven drinks the broth from his soup directly from the bowl, before spooning the vegetables. The boar and sides soon follow because as Bucky predicted, Steven finds out he's famished. After that he strips and dips in the bath, bringing the bread and cheese with him. After a minute or two in the hot water, he can feel the muscles in his back start to unclench. It feels good, and his full belly, the wine he drank earlier and the heat from the bath soon have him nodding off. Since he would never hear the end of it if was found wrinkled in a cold bath, Steven washes his hair, scrubs the dirt off his skin before getting out. By this point, he has trouble keeping his eyes opened; he clumsily puts on loose sleeping pants before face-planting on his bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Steven comes to with eyelids heavy as if made of lead, and the deep desire to just close them and sleep for another day or two. His conscience is too strong, though, and it plays dirty by immediately remembering him that King Anthony is gone and they haven't gotten him back yet. To be honest, it's what has been on his mind constantly for the last two days.

From his window Steven sees that the sun is setting already. That makes approximately six hours of sleep, which is more than he wanted. He does have to admit it was needed, though, and once he's shaken off the cobwebs, he feels more alert. Steven dresses up quickly with clean clothes and gets on his way.

He goes to Bucky's quarters, first. If they are empty, he'll probably be in the Great Hall for supper. It's a short walk; they've stayed near each other if possible ever since they stopped sharing a room. They grew up together: Steven's mother worked with the Maester to take care of the sick while Bucky's mom was a maid. Both their fathers had died at war, and the women had become close. They might not share blood, but they certainly are brothers.

"Buck, you here?" Steven asks as he knocks.

"Just a minute!" he hears. 

Steven tries to open the door, but frowns when he finds it locked. Bucky never locks his door unless he has company. He can't believe it's the case right now, not with a situation so dire.

The key in the lock soon moves and Bucky only opens the door a tad, eying the corridor.

"Coast is clear?" he asks, looking worried.

"Yes?" Steven is alone and doesn't understand what the problem is.

"Come on," Bucky says, grabbing Steven's sleeve and pulling him in.

Everything is explained when Steven sees Sam in Bucky's chair, head thrown back and eyes completely white. As always, it's a shock, not that he's seen Sam using his warg powers often. Since the last war against the Wildlings, there has been a lot of backlash and suspicion towards everyone having the visions. Sam has kept it a secret save from his closest friends, and in Winterfell it's limited to Bucky and Steven. Not even Commander Rhodes knows about it.

"Redwing is even more South than the searching parties," Bucky says, whispering.

"And?" Steven asks.

"Nothing," Bucky says with a sigh. "That he's seen, anyway."

"How long has he been searching?"

"Since we heard that King Anthony was taken. Sadly there was the delay of getting the message, plus the time for Redwing to fly all the way over there. He's been in the bird's head for a couple of hours every day."

"Hours?" Steven exclaims, immediately concerned. "Isn't it dangerous for him to get stuck?"

"That's what I am worried about, too," Bucky says, arms crossed over his chest and scowling. "He says he's fine."

The amount of time Sam spends in his falcon's head is already worrisome, but the distance that separates them is staggering. It means the bond between Sam and Redwing is stretched probably to the limit. No wonder Sam looked so tired earlier if he's spending this much energy on private searches.

They watch Sam for long minutes, and Bucky is getting restless. He's grumbling about how his friends will give him a heart condition when Sam shudders and his eyes clear. He goes from ramrod straight in the chair to slumping down. 

"About time," Bucky says, immediately offering Sam a glass of juice sweetened with honey. 

Sam's eyes are slightly unfocused, but they clear fast in alarm when he sees Steven, before relaxing on recognizing him.

"Hey Cap," he slurs, making a jaunty salute.

"Are you okay?" he asks, just as worried as Bucky.

"I'm fine," Sam says with a dismissing wave. "Worth it today, too."

"Yes?" both Bucky and Steven say.

"Yeah," he drains the cup and gesture for a honey cake. Sam eats in one big bite while Steven itches to shake him. He can't hint he has something and then not tell!

"And?" Steven prompts.

"We've gathered that the rider who took King Anthony made relay stops," Sam says.

"Commander Rhodes' trackers have seen evidence of one horse getting to a meeting place, then three new tracks splitting up while the first horse was abandoned. And so on, each trail giving way to three. And three more."

Steven rapidly assesses how incredibly difficult it will be to find the real trail.

"Fuck." 

"Exactly," Bucky agrees. "The commander needs to be more than lucky by now."

"There's limits to the territory Redwing can cover," Sam says. "So while I was always hoping to find the king, I had him searching for at least a relay point."

"He found one?" Bucky says, excited.

"Yes. Two men, one tall and one with a beard, and three horses, no banners or markings. A hundred leagues out of White Harbor. When I got in Redwing, he was perched in a tree above them."

"What did they say?"

"Nothing much, not until the rider coming from the North came in, but with no hostage. Not the sharpest tools in the shed, those three, by the way," Sam says with a grimace. "Then it went a bit like this. The rider came straight to our guys. A tall goon asked how it's been going. The rider said that he had seen no one, surely they were in the clear. They laughed a little saying how their boss was so badass and intelligent, Hail Hydra and all."

Bucky tenses and Steven swears under his breath. It's one thing to suspect, but now it's confirmed and Hydra is nasty. He would have preferred they'd be wrong.

"They didn't name that boss, by chance?" Steven asks.

"Sadly no. The rider looked beat, and when he got on his new horse, he turned it around."

"To go North?" Bucky asks.

"Exactly. But then he got a bucket full of shit from bearded guy, on how they had orders to go South, that was the plan. The rider argued that he was sick of playing lure towards the sea, he wanted to go back to base. Surely no dimwit from Winterfell would notice, not one rider on the Kingsroad."

Oh, shit, that changes everything. "They are leading us on a wild goose chase, they are not South at all," Steven says.

"That's what I figure, too. Or at least, they are North of that particular point on the map."

"Anything else?" Bucky asks.

"Beard guy convinced the rider to stick to the plan. He asked if the rider really wanted to go back to base a month in advance and then face the boss to answer his questions. Rider got about five shades paler before turning his horse towards the South again."

"So most of the men will reach the sea, probably seaports, then either take a boat or spin a story faking it," Steven says. "To make us believe they are taking him to Essos, which would fit with Hydra."

"All the while, they took the king somewhere else. But where?"

"I have no idea. If we'd catch one of those men, maybe we could get the information about where home base is. But we have to find one first."

"And they have cyanide," Steven says, growing more and more frustrated. "Getting that information would be difficult if not impossible. Fuck!" he shouts, kicking a boot that happened to be nearby. It ricochets on a wall, thankfully not breaking anything.

"Hey, hey, calm down," Bucky says. "At least we have something now."

"I called back Redwing," Sam says. "It was getting a bit much, anyway..."

"I knew it!" Bucky exclaims, pointing a finger.

"I could handle it!" Sam says, rolling his eyes. "But I'll have him fly back home. I don't think he can find anything new all the way over there now."

"Good call," Steven says. 

"You can't tell," Sam says, eyes intent on Steven. 

"But it can help-" he protests.

Sam's face closes off. "No. You know I'm firm about this, no one can know, or I'm leaving. Don't make me leave, Cap, I like it here."

"We can suggest new strategies without specifics," Bucky says. "In fact, Steven, that you just got back gives us the opportunity for it."

Steven nods. "Yes, okay, I understand. Speaking of, shall we go meet with Counselor Stane?"

"Give me a minute more?" Sam says, wincing. "Not sure I can walk just yet."

"Sam-" Bucky growls.

"A minute, come on," Sam says, eating another honey cake. His animal should be a hummingbird, not a falcon, with the amount of sugar he ingests after visions.

"Fine," Steven says. His stomach grumbles and Sam laughs, pushing the plate with the last honey cake towards him. "Here, have it."

"And what about me?" Bucky protests with a pout. 

Steven smiles and breaks the little cake in two, giving him half. 

"There, you baby," he says fondly.

Bucky shoves it his mouth and smiles with cheek bulging, proud of himself. The normality of the interaction settles Steven, at least for now. Sam, Bucky and him, they make a good team. They'll figure something out. He just hopes it gives results soon.

***

At one point, Anthony gave up on waiting for Ward to come back, went to the corner with the hay and lied down to sleep. Itchy or not, it made a bit on insulation between him and the stone floor, and at this point he takes any comfort he can find. 

He's woken up by the door opening again, revealing two guards with torches and Ward with food.

"Room service, how kind," Anthony jests.

Ward smirks walking over with the tray. "It's one way to look at it. Not the delicacies you are surely used to, but – "

It's basic but looks edible: porridge, bread and cheese, and a glass bottle filled with water. 

"Who cares, gimme."

Anthony immediately snatches the bottle, so dehydrated at this point he has no moisture left in his mouth. He doesn't give a fuck if the water turns out the be laced with something or was taken in an old barrel, it's fantastic. Not knowing if they'll leave it when they go, Anthony drinks half of it and then puts the bottle behind him as he starts on the food. It seems he was a lot hungrier than he thought.

"That's it. You need your strength to make my weapons," Ward says. 

It stops Anthony and he almost pushes back the tray. But no, he needs the energy if he wants to come up with an escape plan. 

"Look," Anthony says. He knows trying to explain to the crazy person why he won't work for him is futile, but he can try. "I cannot make the weapon you want, not only because they shouldn't be yielded by a piece of shit like you –" Ward is good at holding his temper: he only smirks although his eyes go even colder than usual. "But because if I do, you won't need me anymore and I end up dead. So I figure I better die not doing them: it gives the same result, but with less effort and the satisfaction of not giving in." 

"Principles, huh? Funny, I'd heard that Anthony Stark had none."

Anthony shrugs. "Old rumor. Unfounded, mostly."

"I'll make you change your mind," Ward says, oh so casually. 

The complete confidence as he utters the threat makes the hair stand up on the back of Anthony's neck. He's seen that face on Clint, once, when a fool went after someone he cared about. It's the expression of a man having crossed a line and more than ready to do it again.

"Bring in the bucket," Ward tells one guard.

Ward kicks the tray aside sending the food fall on the floor. Before Anthony can protest, Ward takes a handful of his hair in one hand and fists his other one at the neck of Anthony's shirt to yanks him towards the center of the room. The guard has indeed fetched a bucket, and without breaking pace Ward pulls Anthony to it. He's trying to fight back, even hits one of Ward's knees, making him falter a bit, but Anthony has no balance at all. He's cursing and stumbling along with the surprise manhandling coupled with the pain in his hair and throat, as he's being choked by his clothes. The second guard soon grabs Anthony's two upper arms that he holds securely behind his back.

"You will make my weapons," Wards declares.

He brought Anthony to the bucket, fairly large, that is filled with water, and forces him to kneel before it. It doesn't take a genius to figure what is to come. With as much bravado as he can compel, Anthony tries to joke it off.

"You just could have said you'd brought in a bath!"

Without a surprise, Anthony's head is dunked and being held underwater, and he barely had time to take a deep breath. It's surprisingly cold and Anthony instinctively tries to fight back, to get out. The pressure holding him down is unrelenting, though, both Ward at his head and the guard securing his arms in place. Too soon, Anthony feels as if his lungs are burning with the need to breathe. Fortunately he's being pulled out.

"You will make my weapons," Ward says again as Anthony takes short deep breaths.

"Fuck-" he starts, but he's in the water again, lungs almost empty this time. He's gulped water, making him trash with the need to cough. 

Fuck, he's in trouble. But every time Anthony thinks that's it, that he will drown, Ward pulls him back and he manages a gulp of precious air. He doesn't count the times it happens, he's too busy trying to survive, and he finds out that selfishly he wants to live. So after saying no countless times, with less and less conviction, comes the time where Ward pulls him out, says "You will make my weapons," once more and Anthony says yes.

"What was that?" Ward taunts.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

Anthony is coughing out water, retching in fact because he's came that close, and every particle of him is exhausted.

"I will make your weapons," Anthony says, spitting on Ward's boots. It earns him another dip in the bucket, but it's worth it.

"I won't tolerate attitude," Ward says when he's back out. It's extremely difficult for Anthony to keep quiet, but he manages. Panting in air greedily helps.

If Ward thinks he's broken, he really doesn't give Anthony enough credit. Yes he just conceded that he'll make weapons, but he never promised to make < i> working weapons. At least not the ones for Ward. There is one thing for sure, though: when Anthony gets out of this place, Ward will pay. He cannot deliver on that promise if he drowns in a bucket.

At long last, the guards and Ward let him go. Anthony fall down on all fours on the ground, in front of the dreaded bucket. Now that he pays attention, Anthony can hear movement in the smithy. Ward opens the connecting door, checks and then orders the men out, who clearly do without passing in their room. That means another exit, so another possibility to escape.

"Come on, let's get you to work."

Anthony gets up, wincing. His knees are banged up and his shirt and pants are completely soaked apart from in the back, making it uncomfortable in the cold cell. He diligently follows Ward, and this time examines what he will have to work with. The smithy is old, but seems functional. It's now full of coal, probably what the men brought earlier. There are heavy bags of it on the side of the room to supplement the fire once it gets going. There are a couple of blunt basic metal swords, meant to experiment, but Ward has put three new sentries in the smithy. They have crossbow.

"So let's be real clear here," Ward says. "There is no possibility of escape. These men have orders to shoot if you threaten to use any weapons you make, and they will have eyes on you at all times."

A complication, but Anthony will think about that later.

"I want five swords for a start, and von Strucker here will write down every single step of your process so we can make more." Ward gestures to a young man, barely more than a boy. He has curly light brown hair and seems out of place in the middle of the men Anthony has seen until now.

"And then, when you know the how, you'll kill me," Anthony says, bending to see how the ventilation regulator is installed. He already knows it won't make the fire hot enough to forge his special steel, but he'll keep that information for later.

"I probably would if you were a regular blacksmith. As it is, though, you're worth a ton of money alive," Ward says.

"Ransom." It had to be expected. Anthony finds the spark-maker and lights up a scrap of paper, throws it in the coal filling the hearth and gently blows until the flames catch. 

"Of course." Ward is observing him moving around the forge. 

Anthony weights the hammer and grimaces in disgust. He's spent years getting his tools just right, and this shit is very subpar. It's tempting to throw it at Ward's head but he has no doubt he'd earn a crossbow bolt for it. Frankly, he feels he has suffered enough for today. 

"I suppose you'll need supplies that aren't here." 

"Nah. Water and air will suffice," Anthony says, and von Strucker seems ready to accept that which makes him roll his eyes. "Of course I'll need supplies."

"Tell the boy and he'll get you everything you need," Ward says. "But no funny business."

You bet there will be funny business. Anthony waves the words away.

"I don't want to stay here one minute more than needed," he says. "You'll have your weapons."

"How long?"

"It depends how this baby works, but a while. Weeks. You can't rush perfection." It's unfortunately true.

"Get to work, then," Ward says, going for the door. 

He uses the second door of the smithy and a quick look shows Anthony everything he needs to know. Ward has to knock to get out because the door is made in the same way than in his cell, with no handle, hinges or even keyhole on this side. 

The coal has caught, but it's not nearly as hot in the hearth as it's required to do anything at all. 

Anthony turns to von Strucker. "Let's make a shopping list." It makes the boy nod. 

Could he be swayed into helping, given a chance? It's to be determined; he's still associating with Ward. Unless he's a prisoner too? It's too early to tell, so Anthony does, indeed, make a list. And it's long. Maybe a couple of things are not exactly needed, just to make Ward's life more complicated. The rest will be used for the swords, and more surprises Anthony has in mind. He might be caught and obligated to work, but he has no intention on arming Ward and his cronies. It will be a game of sneakiness, but the only one with a working weapon at the end of the day will be himself. 

"So I'll need oil, lots of it. Good steel, not crap or the blades I'll do will be crap. It can be already made swords but that I'll melt to get the steel. A bigger basin of water that will be changed every day. More coal, what is here won't last more than two days. Stone jars, with lids, of two dimensions, half big as an apple and half big as a melon. At least three dozens to start. Glassware. Saltpeter. Acid, something strong, and if you don't know how to find some, I can make it myself from sulfur and viscous water from the Iron Island's mines. Cloth to polish the swords. Black powder. Devil dust. Copper, as pure as can be found. Also red bedrock from Red Lake, graphite, silver rock from Silverhill and magnetic golden rocks from Ashemark. Lots of salt, I need to make brine water. Sharpening tools."

Von Strucker's eyebrow are going up as he writes. "I thought you were told no funny business."

Look at that, the lamb is already showing another face.

"Nothing in there is funny, and everything will be useful."

"Red, silver and gold rocks?" von Strucker asks. 

"I don't know if it's a word anyone knows around here, but the steel I do is an alloy. That means it's mixed with something else, and it's with those minerals. That you will have the joy to grind into powder, by the way. Don't forget a pillar and mortar, one made of stone and if possible marble, it's more resistant."

Von Strucker notes it, but he looks dubious. 

"Now let's see if this baby can heat up properly," Anthony says, using the bellow to bring air into the hearth. 

The fire has taken well, and the good news is that Anthony's clothes are drying. He puts one of the crap swords in a crucible, to test if it can be melted in these conditions.

"Is everyone aware that the firepot will have to be fed to keep going all day, or this is useless?"

"We are," von Strucker says. 

"I can sleep here, feed it myself," Anthony says.

"No. You'll sleep in the other room."

Anthony choses to think they figured he'd be too much of a threat and prone to do plot something if he has access to tools and chemicals at all times. They are not wrong.

The steel of the sword is starting to color a bit, getting ready to melt. Not fast enough, though, which proves what he thought: this forge will need a supplement to burn hotter.

"Is the list done?" von Strucker asks.

"Let me see." Anthony goes over, scans, thinks of what he wants to do and if he has everything. It looks about right. The kid has fancy calligraphy, a noble then. "Yeah, it's done. I can't start until I have all this."

"Fine." Von Strucker gestures to the guards to watch him, which is overkill. 

There are already three pair of eyes on Anthony at all times. The men even move around to always have a clear line of sight. But it's the first day of this assignment; it's normal that they are dutiful. Anthony is counting on them to relax in time, enough to get away with his plan. 

He's checking the steel of the sword put out to melt when Ward comes back, list in hand and looking pissed.

"What the hell?" He hisses, grabbing Anthony by the front of his shirt. "What is this shit?"

 

"It's what I need if you want those swords!" Anthony shouts back. 

"Bullshit!" Wards says and Anthony is turned around, a harm twisted in his back in a way that makes him cry out in pain. It's as if his shoulder will pop out of its socket. Ward grabs Anthony's other wrist and brings his hand close to the edge of the hearth. He can feel the heat, it's almost a burn without even coming in contact with the stone that must be scorching hot already. "I told you no funny business."

He's a hair away from the hot surface and it hurts; Anthony is honestly terrified. Ward can, and did, torture for what he wants.

"I swear, I swear! I need all of those things, please!" Anthony hates the way his voice cracks with genuine fear.

If Ward burns his hand, he is fucked, and not only to get out of this place. He can't be crippled, Anthony can't imagine not working with his own hands sometimes. If he loses the ability to create, he'll be stuck with only words and politics and it will kill him. 

"How?" Ward asks, but he doesn't pull his hand away from the heat.

Anthony has a golden ring on his right pinkie, which used to be his mother's. It's not worth much, apart from being gold, but it has a deep sentimental value, reason why Anthony wears it even though he's not that into jewels himself. In fact, he was surprised and grateful to still have it, waking up. Easily sold items are usually the first things to disappear off a kidnapping victim. If the smithy is too slow in melting steel, the gold around his finger is another matter entirely and it's getting extremely hot, fast.

"Look at the sword, it doesn't melt fast enough. I need more heat, so more coal and oil, stone jars to put it in of various size to control the fire," Anthony says, as fast as he can. He's looking intently at Ward whose frown is smoothing out. He pulls back Anthony's hand a bit, but not enough. It's hurting, a lot. "The rocks hold three metallic components, like those who give us steel. The red bedrock from Red Lake gives a very light but bendy metal. Silver rock from Silverhill can make it less brittle and the magnetic golden rocks from Ashemark makes it stick. Acid is to get to those metals," he grimaces, feeling the blisters form on his finger around the ring. "By the Gods, Ward, let go or I won't be able to forge with just one hand!"

Fortunately, Ward finally relents and releases both his wrist and the arm twisted behind his back. Anthony jumps away from the forge and hurries to the other room to dip his hand in the dreaded bucket from earlier. He doesn't care a lick that one of the crossbow guys looks nervous and about to let go of a bolt. The cold water is an immediate relief and Anthony slips the ring off his hand to let it fall to the bottom. The ring is so soft from the heat that it deforms, and Anthony swears. He puts it on the pinkie of his other hand now that it has cooled down to give it a decent shape again. Bringing his hurting hand close to the surface, Anthony watches his palm closely: it's bright red, but only severely burnt where the ring was. 

"You're a fucking psychopath," Anthony hisses. "You better bring salve, I don't want to lose a finger because you are just that into torture."

"Seemed like an unreasonable list," Ward says, totally unapologetic.

Anthony can feel a visceral hate of Ward build and twist in his gut. It's a problem because he must be patient. "Asking me to explain without making me roast was possible!" 

"Yes, but at least now I can be reasonably sure you are not bullshitting me. You'll get your supplies," Ward says, going back to the smithy. "You three stay here, feed the fire. Close this door. If he tries to escape by changing rooms, put a bolt in the leg first, in the chest if he keeps coming. I'll send the Maester, he's the only one allowed in and out, with a guard. Understood?"

"Yes boss," the three guards with crossbows answer as one. The door closes behind Ward, leaving Anthony alone in his room, as he's starting to refer to it in his head. His cell, really. 

At least this time they left the torches, so he should have light for a while. With a sigh Anthony sits on the ground to get more comfortable, but keeps his hand in the water. He's unfortunately has enough experience with burns that he knows it's for the best.

Meanwhile, it's time to plan his escape.


	10. Chapter 10

It's been weeks and Steven feels as if they are going around in circles. No new lead anywhere, no ransom demand, nothing. It's driving him absolutely nuts.

Counselor Stane keeps saying that it makes no sense for the kidnapper to kill the king. It's sound reasoning, but what if there was an accident? Commander Rhodes said the king had been hit on the head in the battle, maybe he was seriously hurt. Or he tried something brave but stupid to escape, which seems plausible too.

As far as the search goes, Steven has tried to pull it back North instead of South. He has a lot of resistance to the idea in everyone who doesn't have the information brought by Redwing. Even Commander Rhodes, still on the field, is sure they should put all resources South.

Steven is in the Great Hall for lunch when he sees that Clint has come back to Winterfell. He's covered with dirt, so he didn't take time to change, and goes straight to whisper in Lady Natasha's ear. By Steven's side, Bucky has tensed. It doesn't get better when Lady Natasha gets up and follows Clint towards the door. Only then does Barton see them, and he salutes quickly with a nod. Natasha looks at Bucky and mouths 'I'll tell you later', which does wonders to make him relax.

"What was that?" Steven asks, curious.

"Spy stuff," Bucky mumbles, taking a bite of chicken.

He'd heard rumors, but nothing admitted so clearly and it's frankly alarming. Steven whispers urgently. "What do you mean, spy stuff? They are spies? For whom! And why are they here?"

"Nat used to be with Hydra," Bucky says almost casually, as if he's not divulging critical information that Steven should have had as soon as he found out. "Barton was sent to kill her, but he brought her in instead. They're retired, mostly, and help Thor when he asks. Maybe even King Anthony. Barton and him are pretty tight."

Steven gapes. "And why is this the first time I hear about it?"

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Not my place to tell, before. But we discussed it last night, and it's time. In fact we were to tell you and Sam tonight anyway, even not knowing Barton was coming."

Frankly, Steven is floored. He knows Bucky has tons of secrets, but he'd always thought they were from the years he was prisoner of Hydra, ones he didn't want to share. But this? Right now? It's kind of a blow. On the other hand, it's Lady Natasha's secret, not Bucky's.

Done with their dinner, Steven and Bucky are walking towards the inside court when Jarvis approaches them. He's been King Anthony's personal servant since he was a child.

"I would like a word with you, Captain, if you have time," Jarvis says.

"Yes, sure. What can I do for you?"

Jarvis is an older but proud man, always dressed impeccably and whom hold himself with a posture that commands respect. With his experience and expertise he rapidly took the control of the castle's inner working since coming back to Winterfell with King Anthony. He's frowning, now, and for him to ask to talk to Steven's instead of dealing with the problem itself means that there is something serious is happening.

"As you well know, King Anthony likes to work metal," Jarvis says.

"That we do," Bucky says. Steven nods and Jarvis goes on.

"He also dislikes people going though, and I quote, his stuff. So the hearth was stopped, and the door locked since he left."

"Yes, and?" Steven asks.

"Counselor Stane has been insisting a lot for me to open it, especially in the last days. I'm afraid he might force the issue."

It true that it doesn't make much sense for Counselor Stane to insist on going in there.

"And why-" Steven doesn't have time to finish the question that there is an explosion deep in the castle.

They all run towards the sound, which turns out to be from King Anthony's forge. Or, more particularly, at the still closed door of the smithy, where a man is lying on the floor. A quick check shows the man has deep burns on his hands and face, and is unconscious.

"What the hell?" Bucky says. The blast has made Barton and Lady Natasha run over, too.

"The door was booby trapped," Clint says, looking over the damages. "It didn't give in, though, so whatever they wanted is still in there."

"Why did they even want to?" Lady Natasha asks.

Comprehension quickly flashes on Clint's face. "Fuck. Someone knows."

"Knows what?" Steven asks, suspicious of all the secrets popping up, especially around this room.

Barton closes his mouth, and he looks angry. "It's not for me to tell."

Lord Barton takes Jarvis by the elbow, though, and bring him further. On his other side, Bucky does the same with Lady Natasha, probably to talk about whatever Clint is here for and Steven is left in the middle, alone and fuming. He hates not being in the know, especially from people he considers friends. Unashamed, Steven uses his extremely sensitive hearing to listen onto Barton and Jarvis' conversation. They are speaking low and fast, but he hears something about an armor.

It's not surprising that King Anthony would work on an armor, but why try to get to it? What could be so special in this room that it is protected by a booby trap? But then Steven thinks about his shield, so light and strong, the king's sword on the battlefield and how the men from Hydra were cut to pieces. Iron Man's laugh when he'd yielded that had made Steven frown, ringing familiar. How, when he pulled him up, that man in full armor was so light. Also that when Steven had taken off his the chain mail after the tourney, it was cut clean under his arm. Before losing, Iron Man had pulled back instead of pushing, clearly not to hurt him, after his sword had grazed the area. Also, and that makes Steven's stomach drop, the King's arm had being hurt exactly where Steven had hit Iron Man. He can't believe he didn't put the pieces together before. He stalks towards Clint and Jarvis, who shut up, looking guarded as he approaches.

Steven hisses, just above a whisper. "He's Iron Man!"

"That is ridiculous," Clint says while Jarvis stays impassible. "Iron Man?"

He's got to give it to both men, they keep cool as if they have no idea what Steven is on about. If he wasn't absolutely convinced, he'd doubt.

"Don't play stupid," Steven says. "I've seen his sword on the battlefield: it's light, red, and it cuts like nothing else. Like the commander's, in fact, and your arrowheads pierce everything. I bet if I'd chip the paint on my shield it would shine red, too," he lists on his fingers, and Jarvis shifts, though it's barely noticeable. If it's true Clint used to be a spy, he won't crack.

So Steven switches tactics, addresses Jarvis directly. "I fought him, in the tourney. I _hurt_ him. Iron Man's armor is impossibly light and red, the build and the height fits. The king found an excuse to be away in the morning, but it was to fight. How could you let him do something so reckless? I thought you cared!"

It's mean and totally uncalled for, but it works. The old man's mouth pinches.

"If you think His Royal Majesty can be stopped when he has his heart set on something, especially something stupid, you don't know him at all."

"Dammit," Clint groans. The cat is officially out of the bag now.

"Is that why he was kidnapped?" Steven asks.

"I was sure it was political or for ransom," Clint says. "But with this incident? It might be."

Jarvis is scowling. "Not to formulate accusations, there are absolutely no proof at this point, but Counselor Stane found out about Iron Man. And he wanted the king to make special weapons for the army."

"Why didn't I know this?" Clint asks. "When did he find out?"

"At the tourney, he barged in the tent to unmask Iron Man. With no other choice, King Anthony asked for the guards to get out, and took off his helmet. Maybe the counselor told someone afterwards."

"But he's also been insisting to come into the smithy," Clint says. "The knocked out man? Definitely one of Counselor Stane servants."

Steven feels his blood wanting to boil. Is it possible that the king was betrayed by one of his closest advisor? And if it's true, is it the first coup by Counselor Stane? What if King Howard wasn't killed in an accident after all? Steven wants to confront Stane right now, hit if necessary until he has answers. He can see on Clint's face, that freezes in a blank mask, that he's following a similar trend of thought but they are both brought back by Jarvis.

"I have known Counselor Stane for a long time," Jarvis says. "If he is responsible, he won't admit it."

"There are many ways to make someone talk," Clint says.

"But if he's Hydra-" Steven says, letting the idea hanging. He cannot imagine Counselor Stane choosing suicide, but he would never have suspected him to be Hydra either until five minutes ago.

Thankfully Barton quickly changes lanes from possible torture to more subtle methods.

"There is surely a way to find more information, now that we know where to look," he concedes. "Nat and I will check this man's mouth for empty tooth and cyanide before he wakes up, and hopefully we can ask him what he knows."

"I'll talk with Bucky and Sam." Stane must communicate with the abductors, and Steven already has ideas he needs to run by Sam.

"And I've known most of the servants in this castle for decades. I'll enquire quietly to whom could be associated with this person," Jarvis says, looking at the man on the floor with disgust.

"Good. We need to talk to each other, put the information together. Meeting after supper, in my room." Steven didn't want it to sound like an order, but it comes out just like it. Fortunately, no one questions it.

Clint nods. "Yes. Okay."

"Clearly keeping secrets isn't working, here. I'll tell Bucky and Sam about Iron Man but only them, I swear."

Clint and Jarvis look at each other and they seem to come to the same conclusion because they nod. "Fine. I'll put Natasha in the loop, too. Tony will hate this, but I don't give a damn."

"He'll deal," Steven says. "What is important is that we find him."

"See you after supper," Clint says. "We'll check the guy up and I have a couple of things to do with Nat first, anyway."

The explosion has brought more people to the corridor, from guards to servants and Maester Bruce who is tending to the still unconscious man's wounds. Clint whispers something in his ear, which makes Maester Bruce look up in alarm, then towards Steven. Probably warning him about cyanide, so Steven nods in return.

"Hunter and Adrian, help Maester Bruce and Lord Barton bring this man to the infirmary. Please inform me of his condition when it changes."

"Yes Captain," Maester Bruce says.

When they leave, Lady Natasha follows after a last touch to Bucky's arm. The two of them hadn't joined the whispered conversation between Steve, Clint and Jarvis, but they are visibly curious.

 

Just after they disappeared down the corridor, Counselor Stane arrives from the other end. He's frowning and walking decisively towards Steven, who is right beside the smithy's door. Steven tenses up: he wants nothing more than to accuse and demand explanations, but it's too early, they need more data.

"What the hell happened here?" Counselor Stane asks. He glowers at the charred but still standing door, even goes to push it but Steven grabs his arm. Maybe a little too hard, it makes the counselor flinch.

"Sorry, it remains dangerous, better not touch," Steven says, letting go of his forearm.

"The door exploded?" he asks.

"Yes. A man down, too, we think he tried to force it," Steven says.

"What? Is he dead?" he asks and... Steven slightly bend the truth. For now it would be best if Counselor Stane didn't know the man is still alive and might talk.

"He was badly burned, horrible," Steven says with a grimace. Even looking away, he can see Stane's shoulder relax. By the Gods, he'd prefer his man dead.

"Why trap the door?" Counselor Stane asks, stroking his beard. "We should break it down, find why he wanted in."

"I don't think so," Steven says, disbelieving of the nerves on the man.

"As I told you, Counselor, we cannot enter," Jarvis says. Steven hadn't even noticed he was still there. Some days, he is more of a shadow than a proper spy. "Only King Anthony can open it, as I said too. This was just a tiny blast. I know for a fact that opening the door for real would make an explosion so big, everything inside would go up in smoke. The integrity of the castle with it."

"He's downright mad," Counselor Stane says, looking furious. "Who does that?"

"Someone who wants to protect his private projects, I'd say," Steven replies with a shrug.

"You all indulge him too much," Stane says, visibly frustrated. "He's a man-child with propensity to mayhem."

"And he's the king. If you are not happy with the way he conducts the kingdom..." Steven trails off. He won't tell him to fuck off, it's not his place and certainly not his job to get into political games.

Counselor Stane is downright furious now. He takes a step into Steven's space, every inch a man used to power and who has no qualms using his physicality to loom. The effect is ruined because Steven has never been one to back down, not even when he was young and tiny, and puffs up too.

"You are skirting the line Captain Rogers," he says, eye in eye. He's visibly not impressed at all by the fact that Steven is more built than he is. "Remember to stay in your place, doing what you are paid for which is to fight, not to think. I have been in Winterfell all of my life, it's mine!"

"Sounds like the king being kidnapped suits you just fine, then," Steven can't resist arguing back.

Counselor's Stane eyes narrow. "Are you accusing me?"

"No," Steven says, because he can't right now, not without real proof. He tilts his head to the side. "Should I?"

"Steven, come on," Bucky urges, grabbing his arm. "Let's go take a walk."

It breaks the confrontation and Counselor Stane sneers at them and turns around, going back towards his apartments. Steven want to spit at his back; he feels red as a tomato from anger too, but he refrains himself not to cause more of a scene. There are still a couple of guards in the corridor and servants are scrubbing the explosion marks already.

"What the hell?" Bucky says under his breath, shaking him a little.

"Let's go find Sam," Steven says.

"What's going on?" Bucky asks.

"I'll tell you everything in a second."

**

"What!" Sam yelps, eyes bugging out.

He looks a lot more energized these days, with Redwing closer. In fact, after four recon mission to holdings around Long Lake, the falcon is back in Winterfell. Steven saw him circling the castle, high above, on this very morning.

"You're fucking kidding me!" Bucky exclaims, similarly shocked. "King Anthony is Iron Man?"

"Yes. You've seen what my shield can do, right?" Steven has been practicing with it every day, and now uses it like a projectile weapon that ricochet back to him if thrown just right. "His swords can cut through metal, bones and skin as if it's butter. I saw the Hydra men who met their business end around the kidnapping site, it wasn't pretty. Commander Rhodes chopped a three wide as my hand before my very eyes with only a swing of his new sword, given by the king."

"Well that explains my utter humiliation at the tourney!" Sam says, mouth pinched. "He could have killed me!"

Steven can't help the urge to defend the king. "He didn't even try to. In fact, when he cut my chain mail he jumped backwards not to hurt me for real, which led to his loss."

"Yeah, that was weird," Bucky says. "Height fits. You have confirmation on this?"

"Yes, both Jarvis and Barton knew. Also Counselor Stane found out, and he wanted weapons, which the king refused to do."

Sam whistles. "And now someone tried to force the door to the smithy to get to them, or to what could make them."

"Jarvis was just telling me Counselor Stane insisted to be allowed in. Right now he wanted us to force the door and was angry when I refused. Also the hurt guy is one of his personal servants," Steven says.

"Could he be Hydra?" Bucky asks.

He's pacing the room, hands opening and closing repetitively. Steven has seen the gesture countless times, and it's a clear sign that Bucky's itching for a fight.

"We only have theories, no proof," Steven says. "Maybe the hurt guy will talk. Barton and Lady Natasha said they'd question him."

"He'll talk," Bucky says with confidence.

"What do we do now?" Sam asks.

"It's one thing to suspect Stane," Steven says. "But we want information. If he knows where the king was taken, for one."

"I suppose asking outright won't give anything," Sam says.

"He'll deny," Bucky agrees. "With no proof, we can't force the matter. Or we take a chance and make him talk by force."

Steven frowns. "We can't do that. Like it or not, he's the direct heir to Winterfell. It's possible he's just too curious about the weapons, it doesn't justify torture. Not without proof."

They have their food brought to the room and the more time passes, the more Steven gets antsy. He wants thing to go forward, to do something, and finally, after weeks, it seems like they have a lead even though the suspect is disheartening. After supper there's a knock at the door and Barton, Lady Natasha and Jarvis are ushered into Steven's room. It's a lot of people in a small place.

"Did the man talk?" Steven asks as soon as the door closes.

"Yes and no," Lady Natasha says. "We found no cyanide while he was unconscious."

"He's not Hydra, then?" Bucky says. They are all surprised. Lady Natasha, who is standing next to Bucky, put a hand on his arm in reassurance.

"We don't think so," Lady Natasha says.

"He told us Counselor Stane asked him to open the door, but didn't know why," Barton says.

"He really didn't know why," Lady Natasha adds. There is a general air of danger around her, and Steven believes she'd get answers if there were some to be had.

"Could it be that we have it all wrong? That Hydra isn't implicated?" Steven asks. They were so sure.

"No, no, the kidnapping was definitely hydra," Barton says. "But maybe Stane has nothing to do with it."

Steven doesn't know why he's not relieved. It would be good news, no? But the Counselor still tried to force the smithy, and it's suspicious. "Should we confront Stane? At least for the weapons?"

"Then what? If he really has a part in the kidnapping, he won't try to communicate with his possible associates if he feels cornered," Sam says.

"Then we're stuck," Barton says.

"Maybe not," Bucky says.

All eyes go on him. "If he's on it and Hydra, there are chances he's in contact with them," Bucky argues. "Unless he sends riders, and it's not something we observed, he has to use the crows."

"You want to intercept a message sent out?" Barton asks.

"Counselor Stane never goes to the rookery," Jarvis says.

"Which means someone sends the message for him. And if they are sensitive, then that person he trusts must be Hydra too," Bucky says. "If that's true, I think I can get them to send a crow too."

A shiver goes down Steven's back. He doesn't like where this is going. Bucky hates everything Hydra, did his best to forget all about the time he was captured, and now...

"You'd play Hydra," he states.

Bucky catches his eyes and nods.

"That's nice, but even if we send a message out, following a crow from the ground is almost impossible. We'd lose it," Barton says.

"But it's feasible from the air," Sam says and Steven's breath hitches.

Only him and Bucky know this admission is a tremendous amount of trust from their friend.

"From the air?" Lady Natasha says, cocking her head to the side, considering.

"Yes," Sam says, and lets his eyes go white.

Steven observes closely how Barton, Lady Natasha and Jarvis react. To their credit, they only look curious; no one seems alarmed or disgusted. Bucky opens Steven's window and a moment later Redwing lands on the windowsill and screeches.

"Well I'll be damned," Barton says with a whistle.

Sam's eyes turn back to brown as his consciousness reintegrates his own body. "From the air," he repeats. "No sweat."

"That is one sweet party trick," Barton says.

"We can count on you not to tell about Sam's gift?" Steven asks.

"Of course. I've always hated that pointless witch hunt, anyway," Lady Natasha says.

"It's no one's business, if used correctly," Barton says.

"I agree. And Sergeant Wilson has proved time and time again he is trustworthy," adds Jarvis.

"Thanks guys," Sam says, visibly relieved. Redwing screeches his own approval.

"It's a plan, then," Steven says. "Tomorrow?"

Bucky shakes his head. "We should do it tonight. Before Stane reorganizes following the smithy incident."

"Right now, then," Sam says. "I'll have Redwing perch on the North tower. He makes the crows nervous."

Lady Natasha goes to Steven's table and tears off a small strip of parchment. She writes something but then drops water on it to smudge the message, rolls it up, and gives it to Bucky. "We don't know if they have a code."

Good idea. If the message gets to destination, it will seem as if ruined along the way. It happens.

"Fine, let's do this," Steven says. "Is everyone on board?"

Barton nods. "Only lead we have. I'll go prepare the horses."

"I'll put together supplies for the ride," Jarvis says.

"We can't all leave like that," Lady Natasha objects. "It will be way too suspicious, and Stane could alert the kidnappers."

In their enthusiasm, they didn't think of that at all. It is shameful, to be honest.

"Fine," Barton says. "I just got in. I'll go tell Stane that Commander Rhodes requests our presence to search the seaside, in the South. That's pretty much what he wants for real. The commander is on his way back, and should be here in a couple of hours with half a dozen men. I am the advance message."

"Can we send the commander a crow about what we're about to do?" Steven asks.

"You could mark your path as you follow the crow with spears and red cloth? Since he's close, I'll ride out to meet Commander Rhodes before he gets back to Winterfell. Maybe he will send reinforcements?" Jarvis says.

They will need more men, and Commander Rhodes will want to be with the rescue party. They look at each other and they can't find a fault with the suggestion. So they have a plan even if a little insane.

"Okay, fine. Let's go and we can meet in the stables in one hour tops," Steven says.

When they leave, Steven grabs Bucky's sleeve.

"I'll go with you," Steven says.

He's not surprised when Bucky refuses. "No way. If he's Hydra, the crow handler won't believe you're one of them. I have to do it alone."

"I get that. I'll stay outside." Steven only wants to be moral support at this point. He turns to Sam. "You'll be okay?"

"No problem, Cap. I'll grab a bag, go to the stables. Redwing knows to the crow."

"Excellent. Thank you." He's so grateful that they now have a course of action. "Can you take this too?" Steven always has a bag ready, in case he needs to leave in a hurry. He gives Sam his shield, too. "I'll meet you in the courtyard with Bucky."

"Not a problem. Later." Sam turns to Bucky and claps his shoulder. "You've got this, man."

Bucky puts his hand on Sam's shoulder in return and squeezes with a little smile. "I do. Be careful, strap yourself to the horse."

Sam rolls his eyes. "You know it's not the first time I do this. I'll be fine."

He leaves with Steven's gear and drop by Bucky's room to get his. Steven will hold on to it as Bucky goes to the rookery. Once up the stairs, before they reach the door, Bucky takes a deep breath and unties his hair. He used to keep it short before the war, but he came back with it mid-length, though he always, always keeps it tied up unless he's bathing.

Having his hair down changes Bucky, especially when he combs his fingers to let it fall before his eyes. He closes his eyes, takes deep breaths and squares off his shoulders. When he opens his eyes again, Steven is tempted to take a step back because this isn't his best friend Bucky. This is a stranger with dead eyes, who doesn't even look at Steven before he enters the rookery. The door stays slightly ajar and Steven watches with fascination how the way Bucky moves has changed. There is coiled power in his stance, a mix of grace and determination that radiates danger. He takes longs strides towards Dain, sole keeper of the crows, who is sitting in his bed reading a book by a lamp. The crows caw at Bucky's intrusion and the man frowns as he looks up, probably not used to be disturbed at this hour.

"Vnimaniye," Bucky says, tone clipped and Dain's eyes go round.

"By the Gods," he says under his breath. "I knew it. I knew it was a mission, that you hadn't been lost."

"Then you know who I am," Bucky asks, looming over the man who looks equally elated and about to piss himself.

"Of course. The Winter Soldier. It's an honor, Ser," Dain says.

"I need to send a message, you know where," Bucky says. He grabs a transport cylinder from the man's table and puts the fake message inside.

"But Counselor Stane said no crows out without him knowing-" the man says, looking unsure. And there, a hint of proof. Stane is in on whatever is going on, or at least he controls and overviews communications. He also definitely has times with Hydra.

Bucky has finished screwing the cap of the cylinder and slowly turns towards the man. He looks him up and down as if he can't believe someone would even dare retort. "Are you questioning an order of mine?"

From his vantage point Steven can hear the steel in Bucky's voice and the way the man recoils in fear.

"No, no, of course not, here, please give it to me. It's just that there were to be no more crows! I didn't know." He's already tying the cylinder to the leg of a crow from a cage set aside from the rest.

"Hydra has many heads," Bucky says and Dain nods vehemently. "This is a very secret message and it must stay that way not to blow my cover. Not a word, not even to Stane or whoever else asks. Understood?"

"Yes Ser, of course Ser."

"If you talk, I'll know," Bucky threatens. "And I _will_ find you."

"I have heard and seen nothing," the man says, entranced, as he opens the window and the crow takes flight. Steven can't see what direction it takes but Redwing will. "I won't say a word, to anyone. Ever," he adds.

The man is almost bowing before Bucky and Steven is dying to know more about the Winter Soldier. He suspects that it's not something Bucky will easily share, though. In fact, it's certainly what he's been trying to forget since he got back.

"Good. You are serving the cause well," Bucky says with a nod. 

"Thank you, Ser. Hail Hydra."

Steven flinches and is amazed that Bucky doesn't budge and even responds in kind.

"Hail Hydra," he says, frank and sure, before doing an about face and striding for the door, with the same dangerous gait as before.

Steven lightly moves towards the stairs and goes down before him. Bucky has been stomping down determinedly, still in the part, but he takes a couple of steps outside and retches on the floor on the side of the building.

"Shit," Steven says, putting Bucky's stuff but his canteen on the ground and hurrying to his friend. "Are you okay?"

"No," Bucky admits, with more honesty that Steven expected.

Bucky spits out, then takes a gulp of his canteen to rinse his mouth and does it again. His eyes, when he looks up, are a storm of emotion and vulnerability; the contrast with earlier is striking. Steven grabs Bucky's nape and puts their foreheads together.

"It's over, Bucky. We've got you, and I swear we'll make Hydra pay for what they did to you."

"You have no idea what I've done, Steven," Bucky says, voice a whisper. "They took control of my mind and I-"

"Shh, shhh," Steven hushes, squeezing Bucky's nape again. "I don't care. It wasn't you. You are not the Winter Soldier, not anymore and never again. You are James Buchanan Barnes, my dear friend and one of the best man I know."

Bucky's breath hitches, and he nods feebly. "Okay, okay."

"You were amazing, thank you for doing this for the king," Steven says.

Bucky looks up, straight into Steven's eyes. "Of course. But I'm doing it mostly for you."

That's surprising. "Me?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth raises up in a little smirk. "Yeah. Can't stand all the moping and pining anymore, it's pathetic. Let's go find your man and bring him home."

Steven cannot find what to say without incriminating himself. In fact he can feel himself blushing, so he shakes Bucky's neck before letting go.

"You're a brat. Come on, let's go."


	11. Chapter 11

Metal working is repetitive, and it offers escapism when Anthony gets into the groove. There's the basic first level: make it hot, hit it hard. Then the subtleties: the correct pace and angle, keeping the heat just right, pausing at the appropriate moment to cool everything off and start again. It's a sequence that he knows so well Anthony can drift away and get out of this place at least in spirit. He thinks about his friends, the constantly reliable Jarvis who has always been there for him, even reflects on his childhood and family, the good and the bad times. Anthony builds a cocoon of memories about the people he loved and or enjoyed the company of in the last years. He often daydreams about the ones who got away, too.

Anthony finds his thoughts going back to Captain Rogers often, on how he'd do everything differently given a chance to start over. The direct and crude approach he went with works with lots of men with leanings towards other gentlemen, but it was a mistake with the good captain. Rogers, even though he's got the stature of a warrior and the temper to match most days, is a man to be wooed. He deserves little attentions and respect, and Anthony should never had been so blunt with his desire. At least Anthony didn't ruin everything, and they were starting to be friends when he was taken. That's great, fantastic even. Anthony has a small number of very good friends, and each one is precious. Maybe, in the end, it's better this way because his love affairs tend to finish with being estranged from the ex-lover. He has a much better record of retaining his friends. Somehow. He'll aim to keep Captain Rogers close even though his heart longs for more. It preferable than getting together for a short while, burning hot and fast until he invariably ends up disappointing him.

"-it been?" That was obviously a question, and since no one answers Anthony supposes was asked to him.

"Sorry what?"

He wonders how he was naïve enough to think that von Strucker is anything else than a snake in a boy envelope. He has a temper, is mean and basically as much of a psychopath than Ward is. In fact, given the choice of being tortured by one of the two, Anthony thinks he'd take a chance with Ward. He's a nut job but nonetheless very straight forward. The kid is a vicious brat with a self-importance problem. How he is the true hair to Hydra, his father the infamous Baron Wolfgang von Strucker as if it's something to be proud of.

"How many times has it been? Folding and refolding?" he asks Anthony, impatient.

Anthony looks at the blade and frowns. He frankly has no idea.

"It's not the number of time, it's when the give of the steel is just right." When the color shimmers in the fire, and the metal feels like putty.

"That is so not helpful," von Strucker mumbles.

"He's done it five times today," says the more alert crossbow guy, the one always in the corner by the door.

Anthony has to admit it, he's good at his job, consistently vigilant. He'll be the one to watch when Anthony makes his move to escape. The two other guards have given up observing Anthony's minute movements weeks ago. Oh, they are weary of sudden movements and quick to get in position, but don't have their eyes on him every second.

"Five?" von Strucker repeats. "Yes, it makes sense. Resume," he tells Anthony, who rolls his eyes as he picks the hammer again. Fortunately, he was working on one of the dummy swords, not his own. The five weapons all look alike right now, but it will change soon.

He slowly starts to fold and refold the steel again. He needs to be careful because at this point in the process the weapons are light but brittle. Of the five swords Anthony's making, four will stay that way, he's only reinforcing one with the correct amount of powder from Silverlake. The quick slight of hand to grab and throw the powder on the one he's reserving for himself is perfected by now. It will cut on both sides, for sure, and the may the Gods help anyone in his path when he wields it. It's been weeks of being sneaky in his preparation, and even though he wishes he could get out of here now, he can't rush things.

He hears the tell tale knock of Ward on the door, coming for his daily taunts. As he's done for every day, Anthony focuses on his work and ignores him. He hates the guy's face anyway, it's not a loss to focus on the metal and fire. As usual, Ward comes close to watch over his shoulder. He knows that Anthony is bothered by it, so of course he does it every time.

"Still not done," he says, sounding put off.

"No. I did say it took weeks."

And then, to Anthony's supreme annoyance, Ward starts touching stuff. He pokes at the ground metallic powder that Anthony keeps near the smithy, then bends to check the acidic solution that helps in other part of the process. When he grabs a little oil pot, Anthony's heart skips. They are mostly all harmless, filled with oil to give a heat boost to the fire pit as he told Ward the day he burned his hand. But four pots hidden in the back are a lot more dangerous than any steel Anthony could ever forge. Those contain brewing wildfire. Anthony hasn't confirmed it in fear to be discovered, but he's pretty sure they are ready.

As a child, Anthony loved stories about dragons like every brat alive. But the tales with pyromancers and the epic battles with wildfire were totally fascinating. A greenish fire that engulfs and burns everything without being put out by water? He couldn't stop thinking about it. It was therefore unsurprising that he sought the knowledge to make some himself when he had the chance. Books and parchments, may they be old or from obscure sources, had proved to be of no use at all. His experiments were a series of failures. 

His breakthrough happened in Casterly Rock, on the night of a ball and tourney Loki threw in the honor of his brother Thor's big win in Essos. An old minstrel who has been singing for food and booze ended up drunk and sick in the gardens. Anthony, also tipsy after celebrating his first dizzying bout and win under the name of Iron Man, met him there and started chatting. The old man was crazy but entertaining, saying he used to be a Maester at the citadel, but that he'd been kicked out of the order a long time ago. He really caught Anthony's attention when he said it was because he had made wildfire.

"Nah, old wives' tales, all of it," Anthony had said. "Just like the foolish hope to transform mercury into gold."

The man had laughed, wiping his mouth. His smile was missing teeth, and it wasn't pretty. "That I never managed, indeed. Such a pity. But wildfire? Yes. Oil, saltpeter, devil dust and the right incantation is all you need for the substance from hell. Unfortunately it doesn't come with the wisdom needed while creating something so destructive. Maybe now, things would be different."

"Yeah, because you seem so wise," Anthony had teased. "Come on, then, tell me the secret."

 

"Even if I wanted, I can't. The incantation was in the grimoire that burned with the rest of my cell. There's a sequence: bless the oil, introduce saltpeter, and stir as you invoke the spirit of the dragons. Then you put in the devil dust after you having prayed for the sins about to be committed. The enchantment is tricky, and must be said precisely without a single itch or-" the old man had made an explosion sound, complete with gesture mimicking it.

A shiver had gone down Anthony's back. The description matched what he'd seen in a book he'd paid a silver coin for in a market in Lannisport. The young boy selling it probably never had read a line in his life. The book was visibly stolen goods, but Anthony had liked the green leather cover so he'd bought it. Frankly it had been a disappointment, filled with pompous text and prayers. So boring that Anthony would have brought it back to its rightful owner but there was no inscription to identify them. He kept it, somewhere in the piles of books he always gathered everywhere he ended up staying. But that green book? It had chapters that fit exactly with what the minstrel just said, lots of mumbo jumbo that praised and cursed fire and dragons in equal measure. Never, not even once, was the word wildfire spelled out. As far as Anthony remembered, there were also no details about the components needed and in what quantity.

"Indulge me, Maester." A little flattery had never hurt anyone, he'd thought at the time. "Oil, saltpeter and devil dust? How much of each? Does it have to be special oil?" It really seemed too easy.

His questions had pleased the old man, who visibly craved being recognized as an expert in something (it sure wouldn't be for his singing).

"That's the beauty of it," he'd said, sitting down the bench next to Anthony. "Any decent oil works. And it's not that much a question of quantity, but of proportions. It's ten parts oil, and one part saltpeter added at the end of the blessing stanza. The pot needs to be turned a quarter turn at every five stanza, at the word dragon, all through the invocation. Then the mix is unmoved though the prayer for the sins. As for the devil dust, it's in the same amount than the saltpeter, but must be put in the pot at the very last word of the ritual. It's only then, when it finally glows green, that you know if the Gods answered your prayers."

"Then you stir and have a pot of wildfire?"

"Egads, no!" the man had replied, horrified. "It must not be shaken or stirred. The pot is covered, put in a warm place and let to mature for at least half a moon, to get more potency. If not it's pretty green oil, albeit it burns bright."

"I suppose that you tried again after losing the grimoire?" Anthony would have after all.

"Indeed," the man had said, sadly. "But without the magic in the words, recited in the exact tone..."

"Which would be?"

The old man had taken a deep breath, closes his eyes, and starts to recite in a monotonous and corded tone. "May the one true God of fire, in his infinite wisdom, bless this oil. Take it from our impure hands and render it Holy, and infuse it with the necessary grace-" he had made a rolling motion, in the end, before he shut up. "And so on and so forth. Always paced, strong and steady to be heard by the Gods. Doing it at night works better. That part I said so many times I can remember, but there were pages of it and alas… they are gone. I could never find the text again, and frankly I stopped looking."

"Why would you stop?" Anthony had asked, curious.

"Wildfire burned everything: not only the book itself and my cell, but my place at the citadel, the friendship with my brothers, my sanity for a while. No, no, it is not for me," the old man had said. "And if you are wise, you will not seek it either. It's destruction in the purest form."

Anthony has never been called wise, anyway. Itching to go find that book, and check if the opening matched, he'd picked up his wine flask and given it to the old man. It was good booze, and the Minstrel had grinned after taking a sip.

"Keep it, for the tale," Anthony had said.

"Thank you my lord! You are the young Stark, aren't you? I once knew your father, you look a lot like him."

That had been half surprising: minstrel did travel a lot. "Sang for good old Dad, huh?"

The man had laughed. "No, no, at the citadel. He was a lot like you, would not stop asking questions."

"My dad went to the citadel?" Anthony had never heard about that.

"He did, for a while. I am pretty sure he wouldn't have taken the vows, he loved ladies too much, but he had a lot of interest in the Maesters studies. He had to go back North when Winterfell called for him. Weeks later he was the new king, I haven't seen him since."

"Huh."

"I might detour by Winterfell, give him my regards," the old drunk had mused, taking another swing.

"Why not? It was fun, Maester, be well," Anthony had said as parting words.

"You too, young Stark. And allow me to give you some advice: let the wildfire be the unattainable fantasy, it's best for all."

It had made Anthony laugh as he had left for his apartments, knowing he wouldn't rest until he found the book. He has no idea if the old man ever went to Winterfell, and if Howard even talked to him, but the old kook was not lying. First, Anthony had the right book, matching word for word the opening sentences recited by the man. Now he also knew the components needed for wildfire, and he wrote down the instructions.

Armed with the belief he was finally close to actual results, Anthony had experimented. It took months to get it just right, because as the old Maester had said, a slight hesitation or stumbling on a word could ruin the recipe. He had tried to make pots every day, only drops of oil and pinches of saltpeter and devil dust. On a cold February night where his diction had been perfect, totally in the groove, Anthony had finally seen the telltale green light. Doing it once didn't mean it was suddenly easy, so he tried again, and again, until he could do it every time. By that time he knew the text by heart, the belief that it was the God of Fire answering his prayers just didn't fit. For one, a God would understand a minuscule hiccup in a five pages prayer. So if it wasn't the words, it had to be the timing. During another round of experimenting, Anthony measured how much time each part of the ritual took. It needed counting to twenty before putting the saltpeter, turning ten times the pot every fifty seconds, then a pause of thirty, before adding the devil dust. Then wait for two weeks. And it worked. Further proof that the words meant nothing, he could skip the first twenty second count without a hitch.

After Anthony had finally mastered wildfire… he grew tired of it. Yes it felt like an achievement, but as the old Maester had said, way too destructive. He could see using it for defensive purposes, but never as a weapon to attack. Especially not in the hand of someone with too much ambition and little judgment as most war-lovers tend to be. So Anthony had put oil, saltpeter and devil dust aside and instead he continued refining his steel, which was more to his taste, anyway. But to get away from Ward and his cronies? Yeah. It was time to take out the old counting.

He'd never made wildfire in the quantities that were brewing right now, hot and cosy near the smithy. Anthony had started a pot every time he could, but with the distractions, the guards and von Strucker watching him, most didn't make it. He'd burned the failures in the smithy. The first time the pot had glowed green after the devil dust, he was almost caught by von Strucker, though he obscured his view with his body. It's with shaking hands, knowing it was probably the key to his escape, that he'd put the successful attempt behind the other pots to mature. Anthony had managed three other times before stopping. He couldn't risk a big explosion in the smithy, and too much wildfire would be a hindrance during his escape.

Once his sword was finished, which was today in fact, Anthony would be ready to go at the first opportunity. Ward had fortunately taken a regular pot, and Anthony rolls his eyes.

"I don't need more heat right now, you pyro," he tells Ward. The man has a serious fascination with fire, and would probably be gleeful to see actual wildfire.

"Too bad," Ward says, as he puts the pot back down. More damning, he picks one of the dummy blades lined against the wall.

By now, apart his future sword, they are the best they'll be. Anthony can refold them just for show if needed, but they won't change much. The steel is very light, a beautiful red color, and they are sharp as hell. Ward learns it first hand as he runs his thumb on the edge of one and cuts himself. He hisses and sucks on the digit.

"Nice," he says, slashing the sword right and left, checking the balance of it. You've got to give it to the man, he knows how to wield a blade.

"Leave it alone, it's not ready," Anthony says, finishing on his own. He dips it in brine and does an internal dance because he's done it, it's now ready. Gods, the temptation to use it is so strong, he can taste it.

"Looks right to me," Ward comments. "Are you stalling?"

"Why would I do that?" Anthony asks, putting his sword against the wall. It's a smidge duller than the others, because of the Silverlake powder. He's pretty sure he's the only one who notices, though. "I want to get out of here."

Not listening, as is his habit, Ward swishes the sword again. He then brings it down on the side of the wooden table where von Strucker is sitting. The blade is brittle, but it holds on as it chips out the corner of the table.

"Hey, hey, stop!" Anthony cries out, afraid that his deception will be found out. "Are you stupid? I told you it's not ready, you'll break it!"

"Fine," Ward says. "How long now?"

"A week, give or take," Anthony lies. In fact, he plans on getting out faster than that.

Ward goes to von Strucker and grabs the parchment he's been writing on. He looks at it and scrunches his nose.

"Geez, Vernon, this is illegible."

Good, Anthony thinks. It's been a problem for him, the thought of escaping while leaving behind the recipe to make his weapons.

"You'll transcribe everything, with care. Understood?" Ward says.

Von Strucker rolls his eyes. "Fine."

And shit, not good after all. On the other hand, he can worry about that later. The urgency is getting out of here. Tomorrow, Anthony resolves.


	12. Chapter 12

He barely sleeps, too nervous. He's been thinking about how to escape for weeks, since the wildfire took. Not only does he need to incapacitate von Strucker and the guards, he needs to get out of the smithy. That means he has to act when someone comes in, and it's either for food or when Ward visits. As much as Anthony would like to take care of Ward personally, he's a very skilled fighter. Dealing with him while trying to escape the room would be a risk to the whole plan. So lunch time it will be. He'll have to face Ward out of the smithy, anyway. 

When the guards come in with breakfast, Anthony eats as much as he can; he will need the energy. He also takes great care to act as he would normally do, not to raise suspicion. The men with crossbows don't pay him more attention than usual, which is good. Von Strucker knock before coming in... a move copied from Ward, what a surprise. It's with supreme delight that Anthony notes that he's carrying several parchments, plus new ones. He will start the transcription, then. This is perfect. 

"What a nice little scribe you do," Anthony snarks, because being an asshole is part of the game.

"You, shut up!" von Strucker replies with a pinched up face. "You don't need a mouth to forge."

"Unless you have questions. But hey, your choice," Anthony says, taking a dummy sword and putting it down in the to hearth. It's the one he'll keep busy with this morning.

Anthony takes a big pot of oil and lobs it in the pit where it causes a big whoosh. After that the steel changes color and he starts folding the metal. He makes a show of picking up a pinch of Ashemark golden powder, throws it on the blade and sees von Strucker take a note.

Time passes extremely slowly, and he folds the steal on this blade the same number of times as the day before, thanking in passing the guard who'd kept count. It's important to be consistent, if only for show. Anticipation is building in Anthony's gut steadily through the morning. Once he has dipped the dummy in brine and put it back on the wall, he takes out his four pots of wildfire. He lines them up on the table, heart in his throat. Anthony doesn't need an untimely explosion here. He puts four more next to them, the same setup he uses every day. Then, he slides into his pocket a bag he prepared days ago, full of saltpeter and black powder, that he'll use to flash and confuse later. He can't believe no one is catching on that he's nervous about this: his heart is beating double time and he feels flushed. But all is normal, von Strucker frowning as he painstakingly transcribes his notes.

Lunch and his window of opportunity is surely only minutes away, now. For the second step of his plan, Anthony mixes chemicals that will be of no use at all apart from messing with his captors. He makes a solution that is as harmless as water, and soaks a rag with it. 

"What was that?" von Strucker asks. "water, salt and saltpeter?"

"Yes. Pinches of each, and it's to dust up impurities that could have gotten on the blades," Anthony says.

With this excuse to fondle the swords in hand, he goes to the wall and takes the first dummy off it, and wipes it exaggeratedly. As he thought, the guards are on semi-alert, pointing their bolts at him. Honestly? It's half-assed as best. They stopped being worried by him weeks ago, and Ward would be furious. Not paying the sentries any mind, Anthony puts the sword back against the wall and does the same with the second dummy in line. By the third, the guards are nonchalant, two of the three chatting about how a certain Ben cheated at dice the night before. The third crossbowman is yawning by the door, right by the table and von Strucker. 

At long last, there's the soft rap of knuckles. As soon as the door swings in, Anthony leaps into action. He has his sword, the good one, already in hand and as he jumps towards the clay pots holding the oil and wildfire. At the same time, Anthony throws the bag from his pocket in the fire, causing a small explosion and lots of smoke. He holds his breath from there, because the less he breathes in, the better. Taking advantage of the surprise, Anthony slashes down at one crossbow, cutting it clear in two, bolt and bow alike, rendering it useless. 

Everyone is shouting and coughing; Anthony must act fast before the door close. A crossbow bolt almost hits him, zipping near his head, but the smithy is full of smoke and Anthony runs for the clay pots. He lobs one towards a crossbow guard, aiming at the torch on the wall. It connects and sprays wildfire all around, unmistakably green and deadly looking. There are cries of terror, and Anthony keeps up the momentum by rapidly throwing a second wildfire pot on von Strucker's table. It knocks down a candle and the green flames take immediately, the alarmed shouts of the guards turned panicked.

"Wildfire, wildfire!"

Anthony cannot stop to gloat; he has to get out _now_. He has two pots of wildfire left, and he has to run with them, even if it's unadvised. Who knows what awaits him outside of this cell? He jams the clay pots in the pockets of his apron and runs for the door opening. The wildfire has had even more effect thank Anthony expected: the people by the door are pretty much frozen. Von Strucker, for one, is looking at his notes burning on the table while pulling as his hair out. Seeing his chance, Anthony swings his sword at the crossbow of the guard next to him. Just like the first time he manages to destroys it with one good hit. 

Once in the corridor, there's a big guard with his own sword out, advancing on Anthony. He sees the strike coming and quickly parries. The big guard"s eyes go round when his sword is cut like a sapling upon hitting Anthony's. The steel falls to the ground, and it's with no remorse that Anthony skewers the guy with the pointy end of his blade. It goes straight through chain mail and the man's chest, exiting on the other side. Immediately blood bubbles out of the guard's mouth, and he's falling forward; Anthony hurries to take his sword back. Von Strucker, astonished and looking terrified, turns heels and runs.

Anthony does not know how to get out of the castle, so he follows. It might be stupid, von Strucker is most probably going straight for the closest guards or armory. But Anthony can't be left in corridors he doesn't know, or he'll eventually get cornered. The kid is an inelegant runner, and he's yelling as loud as he can.

"Help, help! The prisoner escaped! Help!"

When Anthony closes in on him, he's motivated; he tackles von Strucker into a wall, in which he crashes with an oomph. He could kill him, but at the moment he's more useful alive.

"Please, please, I don't want to die!" von Strucker begs, almost crying.

"Help me get out of here and I'll consider it," Anthony says, putting his blade right next to the boy's neck. "If you try to deceive me, you die."

"Okay, okay."

Anthony yanks him away from the wall, turns him around and fists the clothes between his shoulder blades to keep a hand on him. He nudges von Strucker to walk forward.

"Hurry," Anthony urges. "Straight outside, no funny business. I still have wildfire, and I won't hesitate to bathe you with it."

Von Strucker makes a sound of distress and walks faster. Unfortunately his earlier calls for help were heard. Anthony can hear the noise of several men in mail and armor jogging closer, with shouts to be ready and to fire at will.

"Hear that?" Anthony tells a panicked von Strucker. "They don't give a damn about you, will even fire through you to get to me. I'm using you as a pincushion for bolts and arrows. Do you have a solution?"

"This way," the kid says, turning around to go back down the flight of stairs they'd been climbing. They return in the corridor and take a left instead. "There's another door, for the kitchen."

"Good."

They end up straight in the kitchen of wherever this place is, more fort than castle judging by the plain amenities. Big ovens, able to make lots of food, but basic supplies and pots. The women and boys who were working scatter like roaches when Anthony and his guide come in, but at least they do it silently. For now.

"The door is right there," von Strucker says, pointing. "It's to the central courtyard where the well is. Please let me go."

 

Anthony snorts. He's surely not going to trust this guy one second; for all he knows that might be the guard's tower. "Are you kidding me? I'll see about letting you go when I'm out."

It won't be easy that is for sure. He can hear the guards searching close by, and it's only a matter of time before they barge in the kitchen too. Taking a deep breath, Anthony frog-marches von Strucker to the door he indicated.

"Let's hope for you that there are no crossbows pointed at us." The kid is slim and bony, but he's the only shield Anthony has right now.

"Mercy, mercy," he mutters, and Anthony is pretty sure that he has his eyes closed when they step out. 

Miraculously, there is no welcome committee, not yet. In fact, the courtyard is deserted and the towers and walls circling the courtyard them are falling apart from lack of care. Seeing the sun after weeks captivity in the underground belly of this place is jarring, and Anthony squints as his eyes adjust. He looks around, trying to figure if there is something, anything, that he can use to identify where he is. It would be great to know what direction he needs to take when he leaves. That's when he sees it, blue, sparkling and looming 700 feet above them, seeming ready to reach the sky. Anthony's mouth falls open from shock: this is the Wall, more impressive than he ever imagined. Surely they are in an abandoned fort of the Night's Watch.

Luckily, von Strucker doesn't take advantage of his shock to try to escape, but his fidgeting brings Anthony back to the present.

"Which fort," Anthony asks.

"Icemark," he answers. It might be the truth or not, but if Anthony believes him, he's not even that far from where he was taken. He could make the ride to Winterfell in a couple of days, even. 

"I need a horse, let's go," Anthony says, urging them in motion again. 

They are not even half way through the courtyard when the kitchen door bangs open. It's promptly followed by yells of excitement of men having found their prey. He can't risk being overwhelmed, not this close to escape, so Anthony immediately takes is second to last wildfire pot. He throws it at one of the first guards out, who is stupidly baring a torch. The explosion that results sprays ignited wildfire in a five yards radius: it is simultaneously deadly beautiful and stomach turning. 

Another door is opening in the courtyard, to what must lead to the main hall. Anthony sees Ward running out, sword out, followed by half a dozen thugs. Men are burning on the ground near the kitchen, rolling in the dirt and yelling; one even runs for the well before jumping in head first. Upon taking in the scene, Ward looks at Anthony with… admiration? 

"Well I'll be damned. We had you forging swords when you could make wildfire?"

"Hey, sucks to be you," Anthony says, using von Strucker as a shield, weary of the archer and crossbow men who are aiming towards him. "I have more. Let me go or I burn this place down to the ground, including you." 

"Did you see how he made it?" Ward asks von Strucker. 

"No! One minute all was fine and the next everything was burning. It's magic," the kid shrieks, hysterical. 

Showy science sure brings the superstitions out fast. Anthony cannot believe how stupid people can be.

Unsurprisingly, another man comes out running out of the fort holding the dummy swords. Ward takes one with delight and Anthony scowls. It might be a decoy, mostly, but it's sharp and something he made with care. Ward shouldn't even get to touch it.

"So they were ready after all, huh?" Ward says with a shit-eating grin. He walks over and Anthony steps back, keeping von Strucker close. If he starts a sword fight with a whole company, without a slip of armor, he's sure to lose even with the best sword.

"Stay the fuck away from me. I'll only warn you once," he shouts. 

"What, afraid of a little play, Stark?" Ward taunts. 

It's the first time since he was kidnapped that his name is pronounced. Unfortunately, no guard or bystanders seem to find in them the need to revive their long lost allegiance to their rightful king.

"Not at all. Come to me when the odds are fair and we'll dance."

Step by step, Anthony is approaching the stables. He can even hear the horses within. 

"Aww, come on. Is all the talk about how you're a gambler and a player a lie?"

"Nowadays, yes," Anthony says. Heck, if he gets out of here, he will give up excessive partying and gambling altogether. 

Ward and his men are still advancing on him, and it won't do. There are eight of them and only one of him. 

"I said to stay away from me!" Anthony yells, taking out his last wildfire pot. They don't know that though.

Two men in the back quickly turn heel and run, including the crossbow holder, which is immensely satisfying. Ward is furious.

"Get back here, cowards!" he shouts.

"I don't know," Anthony says. "They are the most intelligent of you guys."

"I hope you enjoyed your stroll outside, because it's the last fresh air you'll ever have!" Ward says, gesturing for his men to come forward. They do so slowly and reluctantly. 

"What about letting me go? I did your swords," Anthony says.

"Oh no. Deal's off."

There is almost no possibility to get out of here if he doesn't act fast, and the only advantage is the wildfire in his hand. There's a little patch of the previous batch burning on the ground on Ward's left. Wildfire is pretty much useless unless you ignite it – apart from sometimes exploding when shaken too much, or being looked at wrong – so Anthony hauls his pot at his only chance of success. Thank to the Gods he has decent aim, and the pot breaks right over it, splashing and spraying wildfire around. Unfortunately, Ward dives out of the way, and the archer panics, letting go of an arrow in his direction. 

He ducks behind von Strucker's back by instinct, and he hears the kid gasp in pain. It's clear why when Anthony realizes he's the one that was shot. He'd been using him as a shield for this exact purpose, but it's still a shock.

"Fuck," Ward swears. 

He would probably berate his archer, but the man, like the rest of Ward's crew, is on fire. Furious, Ward comes for Anthony instead. The only remaining choice is to throw a limp von Strucker to the side and get in position to defend himself. 

"Bad move," Anthony says. "Since he was the one taking the notes, and they burned."

"It means that you must stay here longer and make new ones. No clay pot in sight," Ward counters. 

"No." No way in hell.

Instead of waiting for Ward to attack, Anthony charges. He won't go back in that cell. As expected, at least by Anthony, at the first clash of his good sword and the dummy, Ward's is cut clean in two. He's left with the pommel and a foot of blade at most. The astonishment on his face makes Anthony cackle in delight.

"You really believed I'd let you have one?" Anthony asks, pushing his advantage. Unfortunately Ward manages to snatch a shield on the ground and parry the hits. 

"I've got admit you're one sneaky son of a bitch," Ward says as Anthony slashes and hits at the shield, chipping boiled leather and metal reinforcement away.

He's not the only one with a claim to that sneaky title because the next thing Anthony knows, Ward is throwing dirt and sand in his face. It's unexpected and unfortunately it works, mostly blinding Anthony for a second as he stumbles back, blinking furiously. It allows Ward to pick a weapon dropped by one of his men and suddenly he's a lot more of a threat. Ward also knows that the only way to win this fight is to attack relentlessly, and he's aiming for Anthony's sword arm. Anthony curses, trips on a body and he's sure he'd done for. Ward's blade is coming for his face when there's a high-pitched screech and a bird flies right onto Ward's face. 

It's his opponent's turn to be distracted, giving Anthony the window of opportunity to right himself and fight back. He disarms Ward, and soon has the point of his sword at his neck, tempted beyond belief to finish him here and now. Anthony's won, and they both know it. Ward acknowledges his loss by kneeling down, hands behind his neck. He doesn't bow his head, though, and stares defiantly at Anthony. The bird has dug bloody grooves in Ward's face with its talons and missed his eyes by almost nothing.

"Well that was unexpected," Anthony says, smiling wide. "Thank you, bird!"

It's a falcon, still flying around their heads, and it screeches as if it understands. For the first time, Ward seems destabilized.

"King, smith, pyromancer... Are you a warg too?"

"I wish, but I'm not cool enough for that," Anthony says. 

"Wargs are freaks," Ward says, looking at the bird and spitting in the dirt.

It's true that the bird is acting a little too cognisant to be natural. But Anthony doesn't agree with Ward, what else is new.

"No, you're a freak. Wargs, they have a gift," Anthony says, and the falcon screeches his approval. "Now get face down on the ground or I chop your head off."

With a lot of reluctance, Ward obeys and puts his hands on his nape when asked. Anthony wonders how he'll secure him; even disarmed he's not harmless. This man is a snake, and quick at that, he'll take any opportunity to try something.

"This is not over," Ward says. "Unless you kill me. But you won't right? You don't have the stones to do it."

"That's where you're wrong," Anthony replies. "It's not killing you that takes character. There's nothing I'd like better than to see you dead, but I'm not a psychopath like you."

Pounding the closed gate make Anthony jump in surprise. Fuck, what if it's more of Ward's men? And who knows, the ones who ran into the fort might suddenly show courage. Anthony is not out of danger yet, far from it. He is astonished when someone bellows from the other side. 

"Open this door, right this moment!"

He knows that voice!

"Rhodey?" he shouts back, not daring to hope. 

There's a young boy, surely not much older than fifteen, on the rampart who is alternating between looking out of the fort and in at Anthony. He must have watched the fight from there and Anthony never noticed. He shivers thinking that it could have been someone with a bow or a crossbow, who could have killed him with no problem. The kid looks absolutely terrified, as if trapped between two equally dangerous options.

"Tony! Open this door!" Rhodey yells again. "You, boy, go help him! Now!"

The kid doesn't move. In fact, he looks more afraid of Anthony, even if he's a lone man, than of Rhodey and whoever else is outside.

"Please don't make me," he begs of Rhodey. "He'll burn me."

And yikes, Anthony has an inkling that this reputation will follow him from now on.

"Not a monster, huh?" Ward pipes up. 

"I won't hurt you, kid!" Anthony replies, glancing at Ward on the ground. He can absolutely not leave him there unsupervised. "Cross my heart. Come on!"

The boy shakes his head and suddenly an arrow hits the wall right by his ear. By the way it buries itself into rock several inches deep, Anthony knows that Clint is here, too. 

Unfortunately it proves too overwhelming for the kid who… faints, falling to the ground. Anthony gapes, then scowls. 

"Ah, come on, Clint!"

"Sorry he's a wimp!" he hears faintly and can't help but chuckle.

The falcon screeches and it seems they are stuck once again until the solution belatedly presents itself to Anthony. He can't believe he's just thinking of it now. 

"Okay, enough."

Careful to watch Ward at all times, he picks up the shield he was using earlier and delivers a sharp hit to the side of his head. Ward is immediately out cold, which he won't lie, Anthony finds extremely satisfying. 

Coast now clear, Anthony hurries to open the gate.

"It's like I have to do everything myself for a successful rescue," he jokes as he finds an impatient Rhodey on the other side. There are other men, but before he can see anyone else his best friend has his face in a lock between his hands, scanning his features anxiously.

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy! You've got good timing. I was on my way out!"

The oh so familiar but so very missed rolling of eyes in exasperation done by Rhodey makes Anthony laughs, and he's quickly taken into a bear hug by his friend. It's the best feeling in the world and they cling to each other. There might be tears of joy that make his sight blurry, and Anthony drops his sword to the ground, feeling safe at last. He can rely on Rhodey now.

"Thank the Gods," Rhodey breathes out. 

"I'm fine," Anthony tries to reassure him, patting his shoulder. He's got half mail and was ready to storm the fort. 

Anthony steps back from the hug and sees that Captain Rogers is right there, a couple of paces way. He is just as tall, broad and beautiful as ever, his blond hair and blue eyes even brighter than in Anthony's fugue world. He's shuffling in place, as if he wants to come over but won't intrude on his reunion with Rhodey. Anthony wants him to come over.

"Hey Cap!" he says with a smile. It makes the captain grin back, which is akin to the sun parting the clouds.

"Anthony," he says with a nod. "It's great to see you well."

Anthony puts a hand on his heart and mocks swoons. "The Gods be praised, we're finally on a first name basis!"

Rogers, no Steven now, laughs. "Yes, if you want."

"Did we graduate to hugs, too?" Anthony teases. 

He mostly expects Steven to play it off as a joke, but he's quickly taken in a firm hug which makes Anthony laugh at his turn. And by the Gods, those are strong arms. Belatedly Anthony realizes he's grimy and must be disgusting. Steven doesn't seem to care.

"You know, I had to hold this guy back because he was about to scale the damn wall, possible threat be damned," Rhodey says. 

And aww, Steven looks bashful as he steps back, blushing. It is very interesting. Anthony is to reply when he perceives something coming fast towards him. Luckily he doesn't have time to pick up his sword before he's tackled by an overenthusiastic Clint, who almost throws him to the ground.

"Couldn't wait for us to do the rescue, uh? Spoilsport," Clint says after smacking kisses on his cheek.

Anthony ruffles Clint's hair, so happy to see him too. "You know me, I like to be contrary."

Behind Clint, Barnes and Wilson, that Anthony knows are close friends of Rogers, are coming over too. Interestingly, the falcon that helped Anthony lands on Wilson's shoulder.

"Glad to see you well, Your Majesty," he says, echoed by Barnes, who looks at Steven and raises his eyebrow in some kind of silent communication. Anthony does not understand what it is about, but Steven blushes even more.

"Thank you. I was pretty much done for without your help," he tells Wilson. Even though he played the warg reveal cool, the way Wilson relaxes at the tacit approval is visible. Barnes looks less on edge, too. 

"I don't know," Wilson says with a sly smile. "Seems to me that you are pretty resourceful."

"Still, that asshole Ward had the upper hand. So thanks, to you and your bird."

"He's named Redwing, Your Majesty." The falcon screeches as if he approves of being formally introduced. "I am glad we could help."

"Ward? Grant Ward?" Rhodey asks with a disapproving frown, back in Commander mode. 

"Yeah, the one and only. From what I've seen, he's leading this gang of morons. Here at least," Anthony says. "Hydra," he adds, spitting on the ground. 

Steven is back to his business face, too, gesturing for the rest of the company take position behind him to get in. 

"How many?"

"Still alive?" Anthony has no idea. "Ward was ko'd a minute ago. And I don't know, minimum four who ran back inside, plus servants I guess. Maybe more, I was kept in the basement, it's my first time out. Beware of crossbows."

Captain Rogers nods. "Yes, okay."

"Oh and if you see red blades like this, and there should be three more," he says, picking up his sword. "They are real sharp but don't worry too much, they'll shatter with a good impact."

Steven huffs a laugh. "Of course. We'll be right back."

Anthony scoffs at his turn. "What? No way, I'm going too, now that I know I'll get out again. Something to check up on." 

He needs to make sure that von Strucker's notes are completely destroyed.

That doesn't please the captain at all. "What? No."

"Psh, I do what I want," Anthony says, rolling his eyes. "Come on, let's get this over with. I can't wait to leave this place."

Before his friends can band together to stop him, Anthony slips back into Icemark.


	13. Chapter 13

Steven gapes as Anthony walks right back into the fort. He rapidly follows, unwilling for him to be in danger again.

"We've got this. At least wait until the place is secure?" He will beg if he needs to.

It would be so unfair to have the king back in one piece just for him to get hurt afterwards.

Once in the courtyard, Steven stops and gapes. There are many mercenaries down, in fact several men who are still burning encased in a green glow. The comment by the kid on the wall, and his terror to comply on opening the door, makes a little more sense.

"Dammit, Tony. Wildfire? Really?" Clint asks.

"Eh," Anthony says with a shrug. "I didn't know you guys were coming for me, and I had to get out."

"You could have blown yourself up," Commander Rhodes chides.

Anthony walks to a young man's body, touches his neck and looks conflicted as he shakes his head at the soldiers. Nothing to do, so he must be dead. Then he moves to a man prone on the ground. Ward,Steven realizes.

Bucky comes by Steven's side. "You've got to give it the man, he's no damsel in distress," he whispers. There's admiration, there. Maybe a little wistfulness too.

"Come on," Steven says. "Let's get the ones still standing."

Redwing screeches, making them look up. The falcon is attacking a crow, and rapidly Clint shoots down a second one flying out of the fort's rookery. They are trying to send messages about the escape or rescue, however you call it. At his turn, Redwing wins his fight and falls to a roof with his prey.

"On it," Sam says, running for the tower with the rookery.

"Coming with you," Bucky immediately adds.

"This one needs to be secured, sooner rather than later," Anthony orders, pointing at Ward. "Eyes on him at all times, and bind him good."

"I've got it, Your Majesty," Tripp says.

"Thank you. Now come with me,"Anthony says, walking towards a door.

Steven hurries to his side. "At least let me go in first?"

Anthony looks at him with his big brown eyes and nods. "Okay, sure."

With his shield held up, Steven kicks the door in. It's a kitchen, and it's completely deserted at the moment, food on the grill burning. With a hand between his shoulderblades, Anthony guides him towards the back of the room, to another door.

"Right there, I need to go down," he says.

"Where they held you?" Steven asks.

"Yeah," Anthony says.

Commander Rhodes and his unit enter the kitchen behind them.

"There might be men in the common rooms, Rhodey," Anthony says, pointing to the right. "When Ward's men ran away, they entered through the other door."

 

"Fine, I'll check it out. Be careful," he says.

 

"I'll be fine."

You bet, the king will be fine, Steven will make sure of it. Commander Rhodes splits his soldiers in two, so half a dozen follow him and the rest are waiting for his orders, shadowing the king, a couple of steps behind.

"What's downstairs?" Steven asks.

"The smithy. They made me do swords."

"That's what we thought," Steven says, and then lowers his voice so it doesn't reach the soldiers. "After figuring out you were Iron Man, they wanted revolutionary weapons for themselves?" Steven asks, opening the second door. The corridor behind it is empty.

Anthony hums. "Okay, so that info is out."

"Just a bit. Sam, Bucky and I. But you were not really subtle," Steven says, taking a moment to look back at Anthony. The king doesn't seem apologetic at all. "Which was idiotic, if you want my opinion."

"Wow, our relationship really graduated if you're calling me on my bullshit to my face," Anthony smirks. He isn't annoyed about it at all, so Steven smiles back.

"I've heard that's what your close friends do," he says.

"Very true," Anthony agrees, with a full smile now. "Keep it up. So, that's it, then? Friends?"

Steven wants more than friends, but he doesn't know if Anthony still wants him. If he'd consider a relationship instead of just sex. But here and now is not the place to get into it, especially when Anthony has been captive for eight weeks (dreams of kissing him silly when he'd see him again aside). It's a nice fantasy, but the reality makes him hesitate. Plus there are men behind them, and Steven remembers all too well the gossip at the camp when he got the shield, right before the kidnapping. Making a move now would feed the rumors for years. He's still frozen with indecision when they hear a sound down the stairs and the moment is shattered.

"Friends for sure." No matter what else happens. "How is the layout downstairs? I think I heard something."

It brings Anthony's attention back to their current situation. "Frankly, I have seen very little. There's a corridor, and one of the first doors is the smithy. The second door for my room in a matter of speaking. No idea what else, sorry."

"The layout is similar to Castle Black," Steven says. "Maybe men went to hide in the cellars and food reserve."

"Could be just servants," Anthony says.

"Could be," Steven agrees.

They are three steps away from a door on the left wall, visibly where Anthony wants to go, when Steven hears the familiar zipping sound of a crossbow bolt. He barely has time to raise his shield that it pings, at face level. That was close, and it makes Steven's heart ratchet up. Crossbows are to be feared for the raw power they yield, but reloading them is a terrible downside. Having spotted where the attempt came from, Steven does a quick calculation of angles and throws his shield towards their assailant. As he wished, the shield bounds on one side of the corridor, then smacks right on the crossbow of the man wielding it. It shatters the weapon in his hands and then bounces back to Steven. He catches the shield easily, and the whole maneuver has taken less than three second.

"Whoa," Anthony says, tone laced with admiration.

"Geometry," Steven replies. The king laughs. 

The crossbow wielder finds himself empty-handed and tries to run off. He gets a shield behind the head for his trouble and is knocked out cold. The rebound this time doesn't make the shield come right back into his hands, but it's close enough as it slides on the ground towards his feet. Smoothly, Steven picks it up as they continue to advance in the corridor.

"Okay, so that's awesome," Anthony says again, and Steven feels himself blushing.

There's also a warm feeling in his belly akin to pride, and he's got to keep a cool head. It's not the time to show off and get sloppy.

"Way to go, Captain," one man behind them pipes up, too.

"Thanks. That's the smithy's door?"

"Yeah. Careful inside, it could still be burning," Anthony says.

There is, indeed, the remnant of a table encased in wildfire. A quick look shows that there is no one in the smithy, and Steven splits his men. He sends almost all of them down the corridor, to ferret out anyone who is left, while another enters the little door that leads to the next room over. Steven follows, and it's empty too, save from hey in a corner, two buckets near the wall and the remnants of a meal on a tray. He thinks he sees a rat scurries off. There is no bed, no blanket, not even a change of clothes, just a bare, damp, chilly cell. Steven can feel his blood running hot to think this is where Ward and his men kept Anthony all of those weeks, with less comfort than any prisoner should have. He itches to find the last of them and beat them up good, but his prime duty is to protect the king. When they walk back into the smithy, Anthony has picked up a few pages of parchment. He reads them with a half smile before throwing them in the wildfire flames.

"Go help the others, come back when the rest of the basement is clear," Steven asks of the last guard.

"Yes Captain," the man says with a decisive nod. He looks happy to get out of the room.

The wildfire makes Steven uneasy too. On the other hand, it's fascinating. He avoided looking in the courtyard, in respect for the dead, but now he can't stop staring at the green flames.

"I can never decide if it's pretty or not," Anthony says poking the fire with his sword, making sure the papers burn with the rest.

Steven itches to stop him, afraid it's dangerous and that the wildfire will climb the blade. Anthony must know what he's doing, he made the substance after all.

"I'd heard the stories, like everyone." Never in a million years did Steven think he'd see wildfire one day. "But I thought it wasn't real. Or that it was impossible to make it anymore since the last dragon died."

"Bullshit, like every other superstitious and religious crap," Anthony says. "It's just knowing what to mix and how. I learned when I was sixteen."

"Sixteen?" Steven almost chokes on his own spit. "I'm sorry, but the person who taught you had no right endangering you like that."

Anthony laughs. "No one taught me! I figured it out with a book and a drunk's man tale. Served me too because it was very useful today."

He goes to another table, near the fire pit, and throws diverse glassware into the center of the forge. The fire hisses and smokes, and for one second the flames turn bright red. Anthony hesitates when he gets to three bowls full of metallic powder. Instead of disposing of them he stacks them up, then fetches three pouches resting against the back wall. Anthony quickly packs everything in a canvass bags.

"One good thing I can say about Ward is that he has fantastic suppliers. I'm bringing this home."

"It's to make the swords?" Steven asks.

"Yes. I made five, but only this one correctly," Anthony says, pointing to his blade, left against the table. "Broke one dummy in Ward's hand, which was great, and I saw at least another in the yard. I want to bring all of them back to Winterfell."

"Understood, I'll make sure they are all accounted for," Steven says. "Is there a danger they could be reproduced?"

Anthony grimaces. "Unlikely. Von Strucker is dead, and his papers burned. I'm hoping he didn't have more notes elsewhere."

"We can surely get info on his room, search it," Steven suggests.

"Good idea. Also there's one guard who maybe took enough of an interest, and I haven't seen him today. But I was careful with the wildfire, and I'm pretty sure no one caught on."

"Maybe the others captured that guard. What about Ward?"

"Ward loved posing, and he took interest, but he was too sure of himself. He was waiting for the written manual."

Anthony is lugging his pouches around, and he tries to take his sword which makes for a lot. He doesn't even think to demand help and looks surprised when Steven grabs a couple bags off his hands.

"Let me. Are we done here?" Steven asks.

"Oh, thank. Yes, it's fine. Let's go ask for von Strucker's room."

**

Later, the room tossed and von Strucker’s melodramatic journal burned – he indeed had delusions of grandeur, and planned to get rid of Ward when he took too much space, which makes Anthony laughs - they finally leave the fort. It's nightfall, but Anthony is adamant that he doesn't want to stay one more night in the place, even in a proper bedroom. After bundling him up in borrowed clothes, they set up to ride and Anthony and Commander Rhodes naturally fall side by side. It gives Steven a little thrill to see Anthony with his coat, and safe at last.

That's when the king learns that Counselor Stane is in on the whole kidnapping, and probably Hydra. No need for super ears to understand the string of profanities that follows. Anthony is furious as he has every right to me.

When a rider comes to Steven's own side, it's unsurprisingly Bucky in a quest for information and maximum annoying best friend behavior.

"So?" Bucky asks.

"So what?"

"Did you tell him how you feel?"

"Shh!" Steven hisses. His heart is pounding at the idea that Anthony could have heard. He's right there in front of them. Steven reigns in Snowpiercer a little so there is more space as Anthony and the Commander ride forward.

"Come on, it wasn't the time," Steven says. "Leave it alone, please."

"You will tell him, right? Fuck, Steve, you've got to. I won't tolerate more pining, especially since he's just as crazy about you," Bucky says.

"You don't know that," Steven says. He'd love for it to be true, but Bucky is only being supportive.

"Are you kidding me? He lit up like a bonfire when you smiled at him, I could see it from 500 paces away."

"Yeah?" Bucky wouldn't lie about this, right? It would be cruel.

"Definitely."

Even if it's true - and that would be great - it doesn't make it more appropriate to act now. "I don't want to spring this on him right now."

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled, especially right now," Bucky argues.

"Still. Please leave it alone?" Steven begs.

"Okay, for now," Bucky concedes.

"For now?"

"Yes," Bucky says, looking resolute. "I can understand where you're coming from, even if you are wrong. A couple of weeks and he should be fine. If you guys haven't gotten your heads out of your asses by then, I swear I'll take care of it."

"You wouldn't!" Steven says with horror.

"I _will_ , and if needs be, Nat will help me," Bucky threatens.

"Lady Natasha? She knows?" Steven asks, feeling betrayed. Bucky had no right telling her.

"Don't make that face, I didn't say a thing. She noticed on her own, it's scary how well she reads people. Not that it was hard! Now that I have had my eyes opened you guys are goddamn obvious. Steve, half the army knows, Commander Rhodes included."

Steven feels red as a beet, frankly more than a little mortified. "They don't know shit. There have been rumors, especially after the tourney and with the shield, but that's gossip. Nothing happened."

"I know that, you dweeb," Bucky says. "And no one suspects how much you are gone on him in a happy ever after way save from me, Nat and probably Commander Rhodes and Clint. Well maybe Sam. Probably Sam too, yeah."

"That's many people," Steven mumbles, no less mortified.

So his friends know, which in retrospect isn't that surprising. As for Commander Rhodes, the way he'd calmed him down on the day of the kidnapping... yeah, he knows. Plus he had said that King Anthony was quite taken with Steven, too, that he talked about him. Steven thought about that a lot since

"It's all people who want you happy. And the king happy too. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Steven says, sighing. Good intentions, by all of them. It would be sweet if it wasn't his business they are trying to get into. "Just leave me a little more time, please."

"Fine," Bucky says with a shrug.

With the discussion they've covered several leagues and Steven is surprised that they are near the Lieber's farm already. Up ahead, Commander Rhodes and the King are in a heated argument so Steven rides forward to see what is the matter.

"And I assure you I'm fine," is the first thing he hears, from King Anthony.

"Ah, Captain Rogers. Tell me, how do you think the Liebers would react if we were to ask for shelter for the night?" Commander Rhodes asks.

He clearly sees what is going on, here. The commander wants Anthony to rest, which he protests. Whatever side Steven chooses, someone will be pissed at him. It's tempting to side with the king, because it would please him and make him smile, but he looks about to fall off his horse with exhaustion.

"They'd be honored to host the king," he says and Commander Rhodes beams at him.

On the other hand, Anthony scowls. "Traitor. I don't want to stop."

"Winterfell is too far, so we'll have to rest sometime, anyway. Better it be here than to camp," Steven argues. "Plus it's true, you know, they'll have a story to tell for the years to come."

"Okay, fine," Anthony says, making his horse move towards the farm. "But if they try to drive off a gang of strangers barging in the middle of night with pitchforks, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so'."

Clint has rid up the column to join them.

"They won't, and you know it. You're just too stubborn for your own good," he says.

"Look who's talking?" Anthony counters as they ride side by side.

Commander Rhodes lets them take a lead before he turns to Steven.

"Thanks, for convincing him to stop. Tony gets manic with too little sleep, and would drive himself into the ground before admitting he's had enough."

"I noticed. But I didn't convince him, he agreed quite easily," Steven says.

Commander Rhodes laughs. "He would have argued with me all night long, but a word from you and 'poof', magic compliance. I'm almost jealous, quite a power you have there."

Steven wants to argue that he doesn't have that power, that most probably Anthony just wanted to stop anyway, but it's not worth the hassle.

"Do you know them? The Liebers?"Commander Rhodes asks.

"A bit, yes. Old Larry comes to Winterfell each spring to sell his sheep. Nice man. His son lives in the other house with his family."

"Great," Commander Rhodes says. "I don't want to give into Tony's melodrama, but it could intimidate if we knock on their door, armed, in the middle of the night."

Steven nods. "I'll go ask them. I'll be right back."


	14. Chapter 14

Steven immediately takes off for the Lieber's farm, stopping just a second by Clint and Anthony to tell them to wait as he makes first approach. He's tempted to gallop to the house, but it would sound threatening in the night, so he trots so they can hear him coming. At least the dogs do, two big shepherd mutts barking from the sheep enclosure. By the time Steven reaches the farmhouse and dismounts, they are doing quite a racket and the light of an oil lamp is moving inside. He also saw a curtain move, so the Liebers are definitely up. At the second house, Young Larry, as he's called, opens his door.

"Who's there?" he shouts. There is the glint of metal, probably an arrow.

Steven is helmet-less, hoping it's less threatening, but he's still a big guy in mail and light armor in the middle of the night. He understands the weariness.

"Mister Lieber? I'm sorry to come to your doors at this time. It's Captain Steven Rogers of Winterfell. Could we talk?"

It does the trick, and the door to the first house opens a crack, Old Larry holding his lamp high, squinting in Steven's direction.

"Oh, yes, Captain Rogers!" he says, opening his door fully. "It's okay son, Martha, the captain is a good lad. What can I help you with?"

He treads carefully, instead of demanding compliance for shelter and food. "Have you heard about King Stark's misfortune, a few months back?"

Old Larry's wife Martha appears in the door opening. "Yes, how dreadful. Where is the world going if brigands kidnap kings when there isn't even a war?"

Young Larry has walked over though he stays several paces away. He looks weary, but mostly curious.

"Our youngest, Flo, works in Winterfell's kitchens. She told us about the kidnapping when she came to visit for my seventieth name day," Old Larry says. "Pity, really, the man had ideas. Maybe too modern for me, but Flo says he was appreciated."

"We have seen nothing," Martha says. "Though there's been more riders than usual going North."

"I'm pretty sure someone set camp in Icemark," Young Larry says. "They keep to themselves, mostly."

If only they'd thought to search around these parts. With information like this it's probable they would have found Anthony weeks ago.

"Still looking for him?" Old Larry asks.

Steven grins. "No, in fact, we found him today. He's right up the hill, with a little group of soldiers."

"Marvelous!" Martha exclaims, clapping her hands together.

"Well done, Captain!" Old Larry says. His son is smiling, too, so it's a fair bet they'd be welcomed.

"Frankly, he pretty much saved himself," Steven admits. "We're on our way back to Winterfell, but it's late and–"

Old Larry raises his hand.

"Say no more. It will be an honor to offer our roof for the night." Steven called this one. "The house isn't big, but-"

"It will be perfect, thank you. The men could sleep in the barn if you don't mind?"

"Of course not."

Martha has disappeared from the door and Steven can hear her babbling inside. "By the Gods, a king in my house! I cannot… Quick, Pa, come and help me by sweeping the floors!"

"Do not worry about those things," Steven says, but Old Larry makes a gesture not to bother.

"It's fine. Go get the king."

"I'll prep the barn," Young Larry says.

"Thank you again."

Steven is tempted to gallop back to Anthony and the others, but he figures the least he can do is to give Martha an extra minute or two.

"What's the verdict?" Anthony asks as he rejoins them. Now that he gave into the idea he'd stop for the night, Anthony looks even more exhausted.

"They are thrilled, as expected. I asked if we could use the barn too and it's not a problem," Steven says. "Let's go."

"I'll tell the men, we'll follow in a few," Commander Rhodes says. "Barnes, with me. Let's not overwhelm these nice folks. Wilson and the guards escorting the prisoners will catch up with us soon. Let's keep a sentry here to stop them so they camp here on the side of the road."

So it's just with the king and Clint that Steven rides back to the farm. When they get there, Old Larry appears with what is probably his best vest – he was in an old night shirt minutes ago. Martha pops on his side dressed up too, her hair having been pulled in a tight bun. Young Larry hurries over from the barn to salute the king, too.

"Your Majesty," they say, curtsying a little clumsily towards King Anthony.

"Misters and Madam Lieber, it's a pleasure to meet you. Pardon our late intrusion," Anthony says, dismounting. He's all smiles and easy charm, like he just slipped on a coat changing him back to noble. "I cannot thank you enough."

"It's not a problem, not at all," Old Larry says. "We're happy to help."

"I am glad you are well, Your Majesty," Young Larry says. "Very nice to meet you, but I need to-" he points towards the barn and Anthony nods.

"Thank you, and the pleasure is mine. Go, do not worry. I appreciate your generosity for me and my men," Anthony says.

"Please come in," Martha says. "We don't have much, but you are welcome to it."

It's true that the house is small, but tidy and homey. A fire has been revived, and a pot is set on the wooden stove.

"Your house is lovely, Madam," Anthony says.

She smiles widely, visibly pleased. "Thank you. Call me Martha, please, everyone does."

"Fine, Martha, but then you have to call me Anthony," he counters with a grin of his own.

"Oh, I couldn't-" she starts.

"I insist," he says.

"He asks it of everyone he likes," Steven intervenes. "He's a weird king."

"Heh," Anthony says with a shrug. "Sorry, but not sorry. And we're almost neighbors, right?"

"For a value of 'almost', but it is true the Stark's private hunting grounds end close to here," Old Larry says.

"There we go," Anthony says, clapping his hands together and looking delighted.

"Are you hungry, Anthony? And you Captain Rogers?" Martha asks.

"If everyone is going by first names, call me Steven, please." It would be weird otherwise. "I'm fine, thank you." He wants Martha to avoid having to make food at this time of the night, but she looks disappointed.

"Frankly, I could eat a little, if it's no trouble," Anthony says, and Martha beams.

"Of course not. There is soup on the stove! But sit down, I have better, just one second," she says, going deeper in the room and opening a trap leading to an underground cellar.

Outside, the dogs have started barking again and Old Larry looks through the window. "Seems as if the other men are here. I'll go help Larry settle them in the barn."

"Thanks for that, too," Anthony says. "And don't worry, the men won't be any trouble, especially not with Rhodey there."

It's obvious that Old Larry doesn't know who that 'Rhodey' person is, so Steven peeps up.

"Commander Rhodes," he says.

Old Larry's eyes widen as he dresses up to go outside. "Wow, not only the King, but the leader of his armies, too? It's a momentous day."

"See?" Steven says when the old man gets out. "They are happy to help."

"You bet we are," Martha says as she comes back with a covered dish which turns out to be a golden pie. "I made mushroom and mince pie today, it will only take minutes to heat it up."

"Fantastic, thank you! I love it, I've eaten some in Winterfell. It's always a delight and a big hit with everyone," Anthony says.

"Ah, well my Flo uses my recipe. It's great to know it's appreciated by the lords and ladies," she says, pleased as punch.

"Flo?" Anthony asks, as Martha puts the pie to heat.

"Their daughter, she works in the kitchens," Steven says.

"Oh, Flo!" Anthony exclaims with a big smile. "She is tall and blond, right? I should have known! She has your magnificent blue eyes, Martha."

Something green and ugly twists in Steven's stomach at that. Of course Anthony knows the tall blond cook with magnificent blue eyes. He might even have slept with her though Steven doesn't think he would kid with her mother like that if he did. With the description, Steven can put a face on the name: she's always laughing and fusses over the soldiers when they don't eat enough for her taste.

Martha laughs. "That would be her. And she said you were an incorrigible flirt, now I believe it."

"Ah, guilty as charged. What can I say, I have a type," Anthony says, and looks at Steven for the time of a smile and a wink before turning his attention back on Martha. "Your daughter is immune to my charm, though. I think she has a thing for the young blacksmith. Which is ironic, because not to brag, but I'm a pretty good blacksmith myself, and I have a crown."

Meanwhile, Steven is blindsided by the sudden innuendo, and he can feel his cheeks heating. That clearly meant Steven is his type, too, right? He fits that profile. Even though he promised himself and Bucky he would, eventually, confess his feelings, Anthony's remark is reassuring. He's still flirting, or at ease enough to throw that kind of remarks, so he must still be interested.

"She has more than a thing for the young blacksmith," Martha says. "They are betrothed now."

"Really? That's great news. Steven, remind me to send them a present," Anthony says.

"I will," Steven promises and berates himself from having had uncharitable thoughts for Flo.

Anthony makes more conversation with Martha, being perfectly charming, until she serves them a piece of pie that smells heavenly.

"There you go.".

"Thank you," Anthony says, and he moans after the first bite. "Oh wow. That is _fantastic_. I swear it's not because it's my first hot meal in two months."

Steven scowls, but Martha is the one who voices their outrage.

"What? I cannot believe… Eat up, darling. Those monsters had no heart," she turns to Steven. "I hope you kicked their behinds."

"Anthony didn't leave us much to do," he admits. "He was escaping when we got to Icemark."

"Frankly, I probably wouldn't have made it." Anthony takes a break from inhaling his pie to rejoin the conversation. "It's great that they came right at that moment."

"It would have been better if we found out before," Steven says.

"I am sure you did all you could," Martha says. "Flo told me how everyone worked so hard to find you, Anthony."

"Of course," Steven adds.

"Well here I am, eating the best mushroom and mince pie that was ever made, so all is good. Thank you Martha," Anthony says, and then he breaks out in a huge yawn that seems to surprise him. "Oh, sorry."

"No worries. You must be exhausted," Martha says.

"I'm starting to see double," Anthony admits, stretching his arms over his head. "I will go lie down for a bit."

He looks unstable when he gets up, even has to put a hand on the table to keep upright.

"I'll change the bed sheets, it won't take long," Martha says.

"Oh, no, don't bother. The floor near the fire is fine," he protests.

Martha starts fussing, looking outraged.

"What? No. I will not let my king sleep on my floor, I am not a barbarian. Pa and I will sleep at Larry's, so you take our bed. Please, just a second? The water's been warming up, if you want to wash up," she says, pointing to a large metal basin, near the fire.

Anthony immediately perks up.

"Warm water?" he says, as if it's the most revolutionary concept in the world.

Steven wants to get out, ride towards Sam and the soldiers escorting the cage with Ward and his men and bash their faces right in.

"Yes, of course." Martha takes a box from under the bed and brings it to the table. "Here is soap and Pa's razor, if you wish. I'll change the sheet and bring the soldiers outside some soup."

Anthony catches Martha's arm as she walks towards the corner of the main room with the Lieber's bed.

"You are an angel, Martha," he says, completely sincere as he looks up at her. She smiles and cups Anthony's jaw; the expression that briefly comes on the king's face, open and fragile all at once, is utterly breathtaking.

"You are welcome, boy," she replies sweetly. "I worked in Winterfell for a bit, too, before I started my family. You look so much like your father, but I can tell you have the heart of your mother. May the Gods bless you, my sweet king."

The smile that the king gives her is probably the most sincere Steven has seen all evening.

"Thanks, that means a lot."

Martha, who seems to have adopted Anthony as her own, bends to quickly kiss his forehead. Steven feels as if he's intruding on something special, Anthony not sure how to react to genuine affection from a woman old enough to be his mother. As she leaves them to throw a new sheet over the bed, he keeps quiet, as if in meditation.

"Okay, done," Martha says once finished. "Go to bed, get some sleep, we'll come back tomorrow for breakfast."

"That sounds great, thank you again," Anthony says.

"Stop with the thank you's, it's just normal," she says, rolling her eyes. She grabs the big pot on the stove full of soup and Steven hurries to open the door for her. "Good night."

"Good night," Steven repeats. He wants to thank her too, but he supposes Martha would chide him at his turn.

"'Night," Anthony says with a yawn.

It seems the men have set up nicely in the barn if the laughs coming from it are any indication. Martha is welcomed with a cheer when she enters with the soup. Smiling, Steven closes the door and sees that Anthony has wasted no time. He's in front of the tub already, stripping out of his clothes. Bare from the waist up, he's quickly working on the pants, his back to Steven. He can't help but stare at the strong arms and shoulders, fascinated by the play of muscle now on display. Anthony is breathtakingly beautiful.

"Don't tell Rhodey I said this, but stopping was a great idea," Anthony says.

Steven swallows when with no more warning Anthony drops the pants, now naked as the day he was born. Ogling a man about to take his first real bath in months is totally inappropriate, and Steven has to stop.

"Yeah," he says, walking to the table to drain his glass of water.

Steven hopes he is not as red as he feels, and he takes deep breaths to try to slow his traitorous heart from racing. Meanwhile he hears Anthony climbs in the tub and sigh loudly once settled.

"Oh yes. Best idea ever."

"I'll give you some privacy," Steven says. He'll check on the men which will clear his head.

"Could you not?" Surprised, Steven turns and Anthony is looking at him with huge eyes. "I mean, if you want to go it's fine, but I'd feel better having someone around. I was either completely on my own or surrounded by guards with crossbows, so-" he trails off, making a face. He looks almost embarrassed of having made the request.

"I'll stay, of course."

Anthony smiles. "Great. Could you bring me the soap? I was too eager to get in this thing, forgot the box."

Steven takes a deep breath and brings him the box, and Anthony hums happily when he sniffs at the soap. As he washes himself, Steven avoids looking as much as he can, or at least keep his eyes to the parts of him that are out of the tub.

"Do you need anything else?" Steven asks. Anthony stops lathering his arms to give him the soap.

"If you offer, I'd appreciate help with my back," he says, totally casual.

Steven isn't sure if it's an innocent call for help or some next level flirting.

"No problem," Steven answers, kneeling at the narrow end of the tub, behind Anthony's back.

Anthony has scooted forward and is now resting his forehead on his knees, beautiful back on display. Steven can't believe he's invited to touch. Taking a deep breath, he dips the soap in the water and generates suds. He also repeats in his head that it's just helping his king, not to get ideas, keep it professional. Nonetheless, the first contact makes his stomach flip. Since he would never forgive himself if he took advantage of the situation, Steven keeps his strokes light and efficient, covering Anthony's back with soap. It would be tempting to linger, even dig his fingers in the tense muscles of Anthony's shoulders to try to release the knots, but he doesn't dare. Instead he cups water in his hands and washes the soap away.

He intends on asking if that is all and retreat, but instead he hears himself say, "I could wash your hair if you want."

Fuck, his voice is rough; he hopes that Anthony is too exhausted to notice.

"Yes, please," he says. "I think I'm too tired to keep my arms in the air, anyway."

Carefully, Steven grabs a shoulder, and uses his other hand at Anthony's nape to pulls him backwards to dip his head in the water, keeping just his face out. Anthony's eyes are closed, face relaxed, and he's so trusting that Steven's insides flip again. Supporting Anthony's head always, Steven runs his fingers in his messy hair. It hasn't been cut since he was taken, and it curls around his fingers. Neglect has it tangled, but not really knotted and a gentle combing undoes most of the mess. When satisfied that he's done all he could without a brush, Steven lifts Anthony's head out of the water. He then rubs the soap on his hair, then uses his hand to make suds and clean it properly. Steven amuses himself doing some horns before smoothing them up. He also digs into Anthony's scalp with the tip of his fingers, which he seems to appreciate in the way he turns into the touch. It's the only sign that tells Steven that Anthony is awake, because he's breathing deeply, eyes still closed. He doesn't even react when he's lowered back in the water to rinse out the soap. As pleasurable as it is, once the soap is gone Steven doesn't have an excuse to indulge anymore. Gently, he pulls at Anthony until his back is to the tub so he can rest against it.

"There you go," he whispers, and moves to the side of the tub.

Anthony's eyes open a slit, as if he's too tired for more. "Thanks," he replies just as quietly.

"I suspect that if I leave you there, you'll fall asleep, slip in the tub and drown," Steven says.

That merits him a smile. "Probable."

"I'll find a towel."

Steven saw what chest Martha went to when she got the new sheets for her bed. He finds there a big towel that will do perfectly. Anthony doesn't seem enthused at the idea of getting out of the tub, but he lifts an arm up in a call for help, anyway. Steven hauls him up without accident and hurries to wrap him in the towel. When prompted, Anthony gets out of the tub and Steven rapidly dries him off. He takes great care to keep his movement precise and efficient; he won't fondle a half-asleep man.

"Come on," he coaxes. "Bed is this way."

Anthony huffs but starts moving, and soon Steven has him lying down, before pulling up the covers to tuck him in. It looks as if he's more asleep than awake already.

"There you go," Steven says. He can't help himself and combs his fingers in Anthony's hair. "Sleep well, you're safe now."

"Don't go," Anthony slurs, grabbing Steven's wrist with surprising strength.

"I'm not going anywhere," Steven reassures.

"Promise?"

At this point, Steven would promise him absolutely anything. This is not just a crush, he's totally, irrevocably, in love with this man.

"Promise."

"Good," Anthony slurs, and not a minute later he's breathing slowly, deeply asleep.

When Steven tries to step back to go sit at the table to stand guard, Anthony is still holding his wrist. He could pry his fingers off, but he doesn't want to, so he sits on the bed instead, glad to have the excuse to stay close.

It will be a long night, there is no way he can fall asleep now with his thoughts racing. He scoots up the bed, his back to the wall and gets as comfortable as he can. On the bed Anthony turns towards his thigh and settles while still holding his wrist, which is adorable, and Steven cannot resist caressing his hair with his other hand again.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," he murmurs. "I'll do a better job from now on, I promise that too."

The house and the night is peaceful and quiet, the only sound being the fire and a sheep outside from time to time. Steven feels himself relax for the first time since the kidnapping, reassured that the man he loves is safe.


	15. Chapter 15

Murmurs wake him up, but Anthony can't find the will to open his eyes just yet. It's like there's a fog in his brain, which only happens when he's slept deeply (something that doesn't happen that often to be honest). Also, he's the most comfortable he remembers being in forever. It's too bad he must get up and go work in the smithy in a moment, or else Ward will hurt him.

The mere thought of Ward and his fondness for torture makes Anthony's heart race. Anthony opens his eyes, only to be completely disoriented because he doesn't know where he is. Just as he is to leap out of bed and find something to defend himself with, he hears a woman laughing. He whips his head to the side towards the sound, and it's… Martha. That's Martha, and Steven who is also right there, helping her cook if he's not mistaken. It comes back to him, how they stopped at the Lieber's for the night. All at once the fight and anxiety drain out of Anthony as he relaxes back on the bed.

"Have you never kneaded dough before, boy?" Martha asks, looking amused.

"No?"

"Oh, one of those rich boys, then, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and servants to take care of him," she teases.

Steven chuckles. "Hardly. My dad died in the first war against Hydra. Mom helped with the sick but unfortunately caught consumption."

"I'm sorry to hear that, may their souls be at peace," Martha says.

"Yeah. Thank you. I worked from a young age, but never in the kitchens. Mostly in the stables, and I joined the army as soon as I convinced them to take me. I might not have kneaded dough before, but I sure peeled a lot of potatoes."

"Then let's use your strengths. Peel me a couple! There's a pouch right next to the bottom of the stairs in the cellar," Martha says, giving Steven a rag so he can wipe his hands.

Anthony doesn't know why he plays possum, but he stays in bed, endeared by the scene. It's nice, he's warm and comfortable, and he loves looking at Steven being relaxed and domestic like this. It makes him think about the night before though it's hazy; by the time he had eaten and got in the warm bath, he was totally drained. He remembers feeling taken care of, being touched gently as he floated out of his body, strong arms around him and pretty much nothing else but a sensation of safety. It was okay for Anthony to let go because Steven was there. He hopes he wasn't too needy, or didn't open his big mouth to spill out his feelings, which is a distinct possibility. Clint once told him that there were three sure ways to make him talk about anything at all: start an argument, get him drunk or to wait until he was too exhausted to walk. And that any combination of the three had a total success rate.

While going to the cellar, Steven glances at the bed to see if he's awake but Anthony doesn't move. Which is stupid, because he has to get up sometimes, he cannot hide in this bed forever. Feeling bad about being a creeper, Anthony stretches when he comes back up from the cellar with potatoes.

"Morning," Steven says when their eyes meet. By the Gods, he's so gorgeous, especially when he smiles like that.

"Hey. Been up long?" he asks, still reluctant to get out of the covers.

And oh, he's naked, maybe it's not the best idea to slide out au natural with Martha right there. He feels as if the old lady wouldn't be bothered though. In fact, Steven would probably be flustered more, and even though making him blush is delicious, it's not a game he wants to play right now. When captive he'd wished for a way to start over, and he will not make the same mistakes twice.

"Boy didn't sleep at all, stood guard all night," Martha says, shaking her head. "I barely convinced Steven to take off his armor and wash up this morning."

Anthony looks at Steven who shrugs his admission. He's far to say for sure, but his ears might be pink.

"I'm fine," Steven says.

"You better not fall from your horse as we ride home," Anthony says, pointing a finger in accusation.

Standing guard is in Steven's job description, and he's no doubt still on edge, but it doesn't justify him endangering his health. The realization he's probably the worst offender when it comes to lack of sleep makes Anthony feel like a total hypocrite. He has a surge sympathy for Jarvis, Rhodey, Clint and Pepper who have been so vocal over the years about him needing to just go to bed already. Huh. He doesn't like the feeling, and he must learn to listen more.

"I won't," Steven says with a smile.

"How do you feel this morning, Anthony?" Martha asks.

"A thousand times better, thank you. I don't remember sleeping this well. What smells so delicious?"

"I'm frying donuts, it won't be long now. And I'll make ham, eggs and potatoes too, so you can start your day with a full stomach," she says.

"You are awesome."

"I put some of Larry's clothes on the bed. They might be a little big, but they are clean," Martha adds.

And yes, there they are, Anthony hadn't noticed.

"Oh, great."

He grabs the pants, brings them under the covers and once they are on he gets out of bed to finish dressing up. He's floating in the clothes, but he doesn't care one bit. Steven's at the table where he has finished peeling the potatoes and is now cutting them in quarters. Martha is checking on the donuts that smell absolutely delicious, and the eggs are awaiting to cook. It seems like Anthony can't help much at the moment. He passes a hand on his jaw and grimaces. He must look like a mountain man.

"Martha, do you think your husband would mind if I borrowed his razor?"

"Of course not honey," she says. "There is hot water near the fire, and scissors in the box, too."

"Thanks."

Anthony doesn’t dare cut his own hair, so they must stay long for now. But with the aid of a small mirror he starts by trimming his goatee, then shaves the rest. It's easier with his own blades, but he makes do, and soon he recognizes himself more in the mirror. Shaving does him a world of good, as if he shed some of the impotence he felt while taken by Ward with the extra hair. It also makes him look a lot younger and less like a vagrant which is a plus.

"That will have to do," Anthony says, packing up the shaving supplies.

Martha smiles. "You are very handsome. You Starks have always been lookers."

It makes Anthony laugh, and he winks at her. "Well thank you. Who is the incorrigible flirt now?"

"An old lady like me? Please," she says with a wicked smile. "I am sure you've broken lots of hearts, my young king."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Anthony says, sitting at the table. "Many covet the title, a lot less the man. Plus attraction is a two way street... just like anyone, sometimes my interest is not reciprocated. And it's fine."

He is very, very careful not to look at Steven when he says that. He doesn't resent the lack of sentiment, it's not something you can force.

"Maybe some people don't know how to react when propositioned by kings," Steven says.

Anthony turns to him, confused at what that is supposed to mean. He finds Steven very focused on his task though his face is pink.

"Nobles can say no, it's more complicated for common folks," Martha says.

"What? No!" Anthony exclaims. She raises a sarcastic eyebrow at him. "Okay, I get that some assholes abuse their power, and it's a damn shame. I made a law to avoid that, didn't I Steven?"

"Yes, you did. And it's great, one can hope it will make things change," Steven say.

Anthony huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't like the idea that anyone might ever have felt obligated to please me." It makes him shiver in disgust. "No means no, by the Gods."

"I'm sure they all wanted to," Steven says, and Anthony can't help but notice how he is resolutely avoiding all eye contact. "I'm also convinced that some people who refused also wanted to. Attraction is not always the problem."

And that sounds awfully like a confession, which makes Anthony's heart race.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Oh, Anthony," Martha says with a sigh. "Some people value their hearts staying intact over jumping into bed, especially if there is no possible future."

He understands what she's saying, but the most astonishing is how Steven nods, as she read his mind.

"I resent this no possible future assumption," Anthony says, frowning. "How can anyone know where a relationship will go?"

Martha laughs. "Because you say that everyone you took to bed had the potential to become a relationship?"

"No." Saying otherwise would be a lie. "Sometimes it's just a good time. But it's not always only about sex either."

"Even with common folks?" Martha challenges. "Kings have to marry well, a girl from the kitchen can't hope for more than being a mistress."

She is not entirely wrong, it's generally how it goes. But the expectation that Anthony could have a double – and more acceptable - life if he has a relationship that isn't beneficial to the throne? No, he can't accept that.

"I might be a lot of things, but I'm not a cheater," Anthony says, bristling. "I wouldn't do that to someone I love."

Over the years Howard had several mistresses, and even though he had the minimum of decency of not flaunting them around, it was well known by all. Anthony absolutely hated what it did to his mother. She would pretend to not be bothered, but it broke her inside. It made her melancholic and quick to drink to numb it all when she used to laugh all the time.

"No one said that," Martha says, looking apologetic at having upset him.

"It was implied. If I fell for a girl from the kitchen or a man from my army, I would never turn around and marry someone else because of duty. I have no idea if you heard, but I don't care a lot about the 'should do' or 'must do' that were laid on me with the crown. I broke my betrothal with Pepper because I despise political marriages even though I liked her a lot as a person."

All at once, Anthony is done with this conversation and anyone who assumes to know what is in his heart based on social conventions and rumors of his character. There's so much of that at play right now, there always is, and a block of cement has settled in Anthony's gut. Steven probably kept him at arm's length not because of a lack of desire, but because he thought Anthony would just use him and then discard him. He doesn't even treat whores that way.

Anthony stands up and manages to stay civil though he knows his smile is stiff. "I need to talk to my commander, please call me when it's ready?"

"Your Majesty, I assure you it was never in my intention to imply-" Martha starts.

"It's fine," he says. "I just need air, I'll be right back."

He grabs his sword by the table and hurries to get out. Maybe he'll go chop wood, pass a little frustration that way. He's never used his swords as an axe, but he's certain it would be great for it. Yes, physical exertion sounds like a good idea because all things considered, he doesn't want to talk to anyone just now and Rhodey would detect his mood immediately. Instead of walking to the barn where he overhears conversations, Anthony goes behind the house where there are indeed logs waiting to be chopped. Before he can put this plan in action, there are steps behind him and a hand closes on his forearm.

"Wait, please." It's Steven, and Anthony lets himself be turned, but then steps back and crosses his arms over his chest.

"What do you want?" he asks, unable to keep the brusqueness out of his voice.

"You are upset." So Steven states the obvious, now. He looks distressed about it.

"Yes," Anthony says. Maybe he should lie, but he doesn't feel like it. Everyone always assume his feelings? Well let them hear the unaltered truth for once. "Upset, hurt, both, call it what you want. I guess I'm just not worth taking a risk on, being such a slut. Good to know."

Steven pales at that, eyes widening. "No! That's not it at all!"

"Don't lie, not to my face. Admit you didn't give us a chance because you were sure I'd bed you and then leave you," Anthony challenges, getting closer. He was hurt, still is, but now he's furious too.

It's like Steven is rendered mute, going from white to red in the face in an instant. When he breaks eye contact to look at the ground, Anthony has his answer.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

It's so unfair, Anthony thinks. He knows he has quite the reputation, but most of it is fabulation, and the monster feeds on itself. Yes he's a big flirt, he readily admits to that. And he had no string attached sex several times and a couple of more serious liaisons on top. But never to the extent that is being reported. He regularly laughs with Clint about rumors of his involvement with people he has not even met.

"I'm sorry," Steven mumbles, "I'm so inexperienced, I was sure you'd grow tired of me real fast."

And that makes Anthony's heart twist painfully.

"You think so little of me?" he asks.

"No!" Steven exclaims, and he grabs Anthony's hand. "I was a fool, I didn't know you then as well as I do now. I think the world of you. You're beautiful, so smart, vibrant and charming, and I'm -"

Anthony need not hear anything else, and he silences Steven by kissing him. After a split second of unresponsiveness, probably the surprise, Steven wraps him up in his arms and kisses back with fervor. It's absolutely fantastic and Anthony drops his sword to bring both hands around Steven's shoulders and digs his fingers in those golden locks like he's dreamt about for months. When they break the kiss, it's mostly so they can breathe a little, completely flustered.

"I want more than casual sex," Steven says while palming his ass, which sends mixed signals.

"Hey, look at that, communication!" Anthony teases, and he pecks the start of a pout off Steven's lips. "I want that too, Steven," he adds with complete sincerity. "For real. I'm entirely gone on you, if you want to know. Heck, thinking about you is what kept me going."

He's kissed fiercely after that admission.

"I was terrified we wouldn't find you, and that I'd blown my chance," Steven says. "I am so, so glad to have you back, and that you still want me."

"Of course I do. Fuck, you are perfect, inside out. You'll see, you're the one who will grow tired of me," Anthony says, caressing the side of Steven's beautiful face. He shouldn't say this, or think it at this point, but it's the truth and he needs to brace for it. It makes Steven scowl.

"Shut up, I won't," he protests as if it's the stupidest thing he's ever heard.

Anthony grins, endeared. "Bless you. I'm a very difficult person, and I know it."

"I love a challenge," Steven says, smiling back. "I'm far from perfect either."

"Leave me my illusions," Anthony jokes, caressing down Steven's back, loving how it makes him come even closer, as if he can't get enough.

They are very different and it's one reason why Anthony thinks they might have a shot. They should balance each other if all goes well. Or spectacularly implode if they don't, but Anthony's trying to be an optimist here.

They're kissing again, hands wandering, when Martha calls out from the house.

"Steven? King Anthony? The donuts are ready, and if you want some you better come for them before I bring them to the barn!"

"Dammit, I wanted donuts," Anthony says, but then gets distracted when he finds a way to slip his hand under Steven's tunic, at his lower back.

"Breakfast is important," Steven says while kissing Anthony's neck. "We should go get donuts." He then cries out. "Just a minute, we'll be right there!"

"No, no, this is better." Anthony moans when Steven pushes a thigh between his legs, giving him something to grind on. "I'll gladly sacrifice the donuts."

Steven chuckles, and ouch, he just bit Anthony's lobe. It was hot, though, he loves it.

"Martha was to put brown sugar and cinnamon on them," Steven says. He's taken hold of Anthony's hips, and it's full on grinding now.

"Stop talking about the goddamn donuts, fuck," Anthony pants. It's been so long since he's been touched, months without thinking about pleasure, he will get off any second now. "Steven, Steve, I'm so close..."

"Yes, let me-" Steven is now fumbling with his clothes. Aided by the fact the pants are several sizes too big for him, he shoves a hand in to grab Anthony's cock.

Anthony has his back to a wall, somehow, which helps him stay up as Steven pumps his dick while kissing him like there is no tomorrow. There might not be, either, because it's so good Anthony feels as if his heart will beat out of his chest, pleasure ratcheting so high there is a danger he'll die from it. He can't even breathe right, when Steven leaves his mouth to whisper in his hear.

"Yes, that's it, come on. I've got you."

His orgasm hits like a lightning bolt, turning him inside out so spectacularly that he can't even make a sound, overwhelmed. Anthony hold on to Steven as pleasure surges through his body before receding and coming back with aftershocks strong enough to threaten to bring him to his knees too.

"Damn," he breathes out, panting. "That-" he doesn't know what to say. "Whoa."

"Anthony, please." Steven sounds desperate, close to the edge. The slippery fingers of his right hand are now grabbing at Anthony's hip as he grinds against him.

It helps Anthony regain part of his wit, and he's struck by the picture Steven makes: a delicious shade of pink, pupils blown, mouth kissed red and blond hair tousled. He has never seen anyone so beautiful.

Anthony could return the hand job, it's all that Steven is asking for if even that. Instead he flips their positions, putting Steven's back to the wall and going to his knees. The next step is to undo the fastenings of Steven's pants.

"Wha-"

The tugging might be a little rough but it does the job, bringing the pants to Steven's thighs. Small-clothes follow and Anthony has to pause a second. Steven's cock is perfectly proportional to the rest of his person and a challenge Anthony is very enthusiastic to tackle.

"Holy fuck," Steven curses with feeling when Anthony closes his mouth on the head of his dick and sucks. "Shit! That's… fuck!"

He keeps swearing, which Anthony takes as a compliment. Blowing Steven is such a thrill that he can feel his own desire returning as he sucks and bobs his head.

"Anthony, Anthony," Steven is now repeating like a prayer, hand fluttering around Anthony's head as if he doesn't know what to do.

He's doing little aborted movement with his hips that are getting irregular. When Anthony knows it's a matter of seconds, he opens his throat. He then takes in as much of Steven as he can and stays down until he comes with a muffled shout. Smug, because that was quality head if he says so himself, Anthony pulls off and grins up at Steven, who's looking down at him as if he just discovered the secrets of the universe.

"Was that okay?" Anthony asks, mock innocent. Steven sees right through him and hauls him up easily, bringing him in a fierce kiss.

"That was way more than okay," Steven says, when he breaks the kiss. "It was, it was-"

Steven doesn't even seem to be able to find a qualifier which is flattering.

"I agree, it rendered me speechless too. Highly unusual for me, job well done," he teases, tapping Steven's chest with a grin.

"Good to know," Steven answers, kissing him again. "Imagine what I'll manage with practice."

The possibilities are extremely bright and tantalizing.

"You'll do wonders, I'm sure."

Anthony worries that they jumped into sex too fast, especially since Steven was worried about his lack of experience. Frankly, he doesn't want to break the easy mood between them. He helps Steven straighten his clothes, but in the end he can't help himself, he needs to know.

"Did we go too fast?" he asks. "I mean- you seemed into it-"

Steven rolls his eyes. "Seriously? That was more than seeming into it."

True, Steven practically took the initiative, and was the one ramping things up every step of the way, until the blowjob.

"Good," Anthony says, reassured.

"I've wanted you so much," Steven says, nuzzling at his throat. "I knew it would be good, but I had no idea-"

"It was one hell of a first time," Anthony agrees. "Heck, right up there for any time."

Steven looks pleased. "Good," he echoes from earlier. "Not that I can compare, so we'll have to do even better next time. Wouldn't want it to be a letdown."

And that is the confirmation to the question Anthony didn't dare ask. It shouldn't get him hot, but damn if it doesn't.

"Captain Rogers, did I have the honor of giving you your first blowjob?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Steven shrugs lightly and says with a straight face, "Eh. I figured go big or go home. Why not give that premiere to a king?"

Anthony laughs. "Ambitious. I sincerely hope to ruin you for anything less."

"Pretty sure it's done already," Steven says. His hand is gentle on Anthony's face when he brings him into a kiss that is a lot more tender than what they've shared until now.

The result is renewed inside flipping and the swell of a sentiment brighter and warmer than anything Anthony's felt before.

"Excellent," he whispers against Steven's lip when they break the kiss.

"Of course, there's always Thor."

The joke makes Anthony burst out laughing, and he smacks Steven's shoulder playfully.

"By the Gods, I love you. I can't believe I ever thought you were boring."

Steven's eyes widen and Anthony starts to panic that he's ruined this already: he never thought him boring! But before Anthony can backtrack, he's squished into a hard hug.

"I love you too," Steven says fervently.

It takes a second to understand what is going on, but when Anthony gets it he relaxes and hugs back. It's fantastic news to learn the depth of Steven's sentiment, but there's a lot of naivety in how he is so open with this, so fast. Anthony will have to be very careful not to hurt him by accident.

"I am so glad your brain stopped at the first part of this sentence," Anthony says, deflecting as always. But Steven deserves more than jokes, he needs to hear those words when it wasn't mostly unconscious babbling. "I do love you, a lot."

"And I'm not boring!" Steven says, finally processing the rest.

Anthony laughs. "No, never. To be honest, I thought you were a bit of a stuck up and a tad sanctimonious at first. There was a lot of judging on your part."

Steven winces. "Well you made a strong first impression. Sorry about that."

"Please," Anthony says with a shrug. "I'm an asshole most of the time. I wasn't at my best with, you know, the funeral and being shoved on a throne I am still not sure I want."

"You're doing great. When you're not getting kidnapped, that's bad for the kingdom," Steven says.

"Well thanks. I'd like to avoid that kind of ordeal for the rest of my life," he says. Hopes it's true, because he has given enough on that front.

Steven sets his jaw. "It won't happen again."

"You're cute when you get all protect-y," Anthony says. "What about we go eat breakfast now? If Martha didn't give it all to the others."

"I sure hope not."

They do a courtesy check of each other's clothes, and Anthony gets rid of most of the mess in his pants using a rag on a clothesline. Before they walk to the house, Anthony stops Steven.

"Do you want people to know, about us?" Anthony asks.

It has Steven tilting his head, scanning Anthony's face. "I don't want us to be a secret, but I don't think we need to advertise what we are either. It's no one's business but our own."

"Perfect. Though I'd totally show you off to everyone if you wanted that, just saying."

Steven makes a face as if he's not sure if he'd like that or not. Leaning towards the not.

"And about what you were worried about, that I wouldn't be serious..." Anthony continues. "Many people might think that too, that you are just a fancy. Gossip is a pain in the ass."

"They already talk," Steven says. "Let them think what they want, as long as I know it's not true."

"Not true at all," Anthony says, leaning for a last kiss and picking up his sword from the ground. "Speaking of, if you'd been boring, all the pretty in the universe would not have kept my interest. You are a wonderful person."

"You too, even if you try to hide it," Steven counters.

They find the house empty... but with two plates full of food on the oven. Careful to use a rag not to burn his hands, Anthony takes them to the table where they soon dig in, sitting side by side. Anthony feels a strong need to stay in physical contact, so he leans his knee until it's against Steven's thigh. It gets even better when a big hand lands on his leg and stays there, solid and warm. He continues eating with a renewed smile on his face.


	16. Chapter 16

Eventually Martha comes back, and it takes just a second for her to assess the situation. She smiles at them warmly, and Anthony cannot help grinning in return.

"There you are!" she says. She rises an eyebrow at how close they are sitting together. "You boys sure seem in a better mood!"

It's an oblivious ploy to fluster them and Steven falls right into the trap, choking on a bite of ham.

"Yes ma'am," Anthony says, easy as breathing. He's got experience. "And those donuts are absolutely fabulous. Could I ask some of Flo?"

"Of course," Martha says, derailed but pleased as a peacock. "She knows the recipe."

"Excellent." Anthony says. Under the table he squeezes Steven's hand and gets up.

"You've been fantastic, Martha, I am so grateful," he says. Once by her side he takes her hand and brings it to his lips for a light kiss to her knuckles that has her blushing like a maiden. "I don't know how to repay you. Tell me what I can do, and it's yours."

"Oh, no, please," she says. "It's nothing, it's been an honor and a pleasure my king."

He must think of a way to repay them, anyway.

Steven has finished eating too and is now behind him. "Thank you so much Martha."

"You are welcome. Your men are about ready to go," she says. "In fact, Commander Rhodes exact words were: 'tell Tony to haul ass, I want to make it to Winterfell by sundown'."

Anthony laughs. "That sounds like him. Let's go see how aggravated he is."

The answer is not that much: he breaks into a grin when Anthony enters the barn, Steven right behind.

"Wow, look at how better you look," he says, coming in for a hug. "Was I right to make us stop, or was I completely right?"

He's missed this, so much, and Anthony sinks in the hug with a sigh. "You might not have been entirely wrong," he admits.

"Ready to go?" Rhodey asks.

"You bet."

"The wagon with Ward is waiting for us."

He has no desire to see that man ever again, but it's unavoidable. In fact, he still wonders if he should have chopped his head off back in Icemark, to deliver quick justice. No one would have batted an eye, as kidnapping, sequestration and torture of the king – not that he told anyone that part – is treason. In fact, Anthony thinks some of the men are surprised Ward is still breathing, including the man himself. But Anthony had insisted to have him restrained and put in a cage to be brought to Winterfell. He is convinced he can get something out of Ward about Hydra.

"Screw Ward," Anthony says. "Let's be cautious, though, he's dangerous."

"He won't be a problem," Sergeant Barnes says.

Anthony thanks warmly the Liebers before leaving. He even gets a hug and a kiss from Martha that he's not quite sure how to deal with, especially when it makes Rhodey laugh and Steven smile fondly.

Back to the road, Wilson is waiting for them with the prisoners taken captive in Icemark, Ward sitting in a corner of his cage.

"Oh, that's what it was about," Ward says to Anthony.

He'll bite, because he's curious. "What are you yammering about?"

"You needed to get pretty again before going home," Ward says with a smirk. "Can't let your subjects see the great Anthony Stark looking bad."

It's meant to make him defensive, but Anthony is feeling good, still high on the development of his relationship with Steven (and getting laid). He laughs instead.

"Something like that! Shut up, Ward."

"I liked the beard," Steven says, and when all eyes turn to him he shrugs, turning pink at the attention. "What? It's true. Not that I don't like this, too," he adds.

Anthony grins. "Thank you Captain. Now let's go."

He takes the lead of the column with Rhodey, Steven not far behind with Barnes, then the cage and the rest of the men.

"That was interesting," Rhodey says after a minute and Anthony laughs. It doesn't remember the last time he was so quick to laugh at every little thing. "Nice to see you such in a good mood."

"Hey, all is good," Anthony says with a wink. He really wants to share with Rhodey that he's now with Steven, but it's new and his, for now.

Behind them, though, is a woot and Anthony turns to see a red Steven and a grinning Barnes. He raises an eyebrow at Steven who winces and mouth "Sorry."

 

Well, is seems Steven told his own best friend, then, and it makes something warm spread in his chest. Good. Steven had said he didn't want to be Anthony's secret, but Anthony had been wondering if he would be Steven's. He's glad to know it's not the case.

"Really, Tony, really?" Rhodey says. Of course he caught on.

"Hey, stop it, it's true love," Anthony says.

Rhodey smiles. "It's about time. I'm happy for you, man. He's a great guy."

"I know," Anthony says, and he extends his fist to Rhodey, who readily bumps it.

That makes Barnes laugh more and Anthony turns again to wink at Steven, who smirks back. Good, all is good.

Mid-afternoon, they stop for lunch. There are still several hours to go, and even if it's just dry meat, a pause is welcome by everyone.

He can't help it, Anthony sits next to Steven. He's missed him, even though he was never further than ten feet from him all morning.

"Hey," he says, totally unsubtle.

"Hi."

On Steven's other side, Barnes snickers and Anthony leans back to look at him.

"What?" Barnes says, shit-eating grin all over his face. "It's funny."

"Your pal is a brat," Anthony says.

"Don't I know it, I tell him every day," Steven says, bumping shoulders.

They are eating when Ward starts talking.

"You know, Barnes, I've been thinking about this. Do you know the difference between you and Stark?"

At once, Steven tenses and Barnes gets a faraway look on his face, smile forgotten.

"Stark, he's bright. When I was... persuading him to do something for me-" Ward starts.

"When you tortured me, you mean," Anthony says. He can feel the adrenaline coursing through Steven at his side, how he wants to get up and get right into the cage. "Shut the fuck up," Anthony warns Ward.

There are a lot of long faces around, right now. Even Rhodey, who is an even-tempered man most days, looks ready to snap.

"I'm not talking to you, Stark. You deceived me, I've got to give you that. I thought I had broken you, but you made fucking wildfire and almost escaped. That takes skills."

"I did escape, asshole," Anthony says. "Now shut your mouth, you are irrelevant."

"You wouldn't have without that bird, and you know it," Ward says.

"I do know it. All the kudos to the bird. How does it feel being foiled by a falcon?"

"It's not the bird, it's the freak behind it," Ward says, spitting in Wilson's direction.

Anthony is pleased to see that no one looks bothered, and that Wilson seems supremely unworried about Ward's insults.

"Sorry but not sorry. And you are pathetic. A big boy like you blaming your failure on a bird?" Sam says, shaking his head and making a lot of the men snigger.

"Anyhow, I was talking to Barnes," Ward continues. "Stark, he begged for his life." Steven very slowly puts his food down and is about to get up when Anthony puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, easy," he tells Steven. Anthony throws a look at Barnes, but he's calm, looking in the distance as if unbothered.

"But you, Barnes, I've heard all about it. You thought yourself a hero. You took it, and took it, and believed you were strong but you weren't. In the end, you folded completely and became a puppet. A perfect Hydra killing machine," Ward sneers and Steven snaps, trying to get up. Anthony lunges and grabs him.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Steven shouts at Ward, going towards the cage.

Anthony, being dragged behind him, close a hand on Steven's nape and pleads for him to slow down.

"Stop, stop, think for a second," he urges. "He's goading you."

Steven stops advancing; he's breathing hard, temper barely under control. In the cage, Ward is grinning, and it's what convinces Steven to stop.

"Go take a walk, please," Anthony asks of Steven. "I'll take care of him."

"He deserves to die," Steven spits out.

"I agree," Anthony says. "I'll deal with him. Go take a walk," he repeats.

Still vibrating with anger and heaving like a racehorse, Steven nods. "Okay, okay,"

Anthony squeezes his neck and Steven shakes the hold before stalking towards the river they can hear from camp. Anthony then points at Barnes.

"You, with me." He then turns to Clint. "Barton, arrow on Ward, and shoot to kill if he tries anything. I'm almost certain he's playing us, trying to get someone close to the bars, and that his hands are unbound. Check it out."

Ward grins and brings his hands in front of his face. He _is_ free, at least in the cage.

"Oops!" he says. "See? That guy is the only one with a brain here."

"Brain or no brain, I'll kill you if you twitch," Clint says.

"That would be acceptable," Rhodey says. He is fuming too and Anthony knows he'll need to have a long talk with his best friend later. The commander voice comes out, and that's when you know Rhodey won't take any shit. "Ward, turn around and put your hands through the bars. Lance, bind him. Tight."

"Barnes," Anthony says again. The sergeant is still sitting on the ground as if unperturbed by the situation and still eating his lunch. "I said with me," he repeats.

He looks up at him and it's crazy how the light is gone from his eyes, when only minutes ago he was making fun of Steven and him. He gets up though.

"Tony-" Rhodey pipes up, and Anthony makes a dismissing gesture.

"It's fine, I need to talk to him, it's all right. Isn't it, Barnes?"

"Yes," he finally answers, and turns in the direction Steven is walking, before looking back at Anthony.

"Then come on," Anthony says. He's almost entirely sure that Barnes has totally shaken Hydra's hold. He'd heard from Rhodes, once back in Winterfell, how Barnes had been to war and came back changed. How they had thought for a while he was a Hydra agent, the infamous Winter Soldier. But he's best friends with Steven, and Anthony could never believe he could be bad, not if Steven trusts him.

Once they are out of hearing range from the rest of the company, Anthony turns to Barnes. "Are you okay?"

Barnes shrugs. "Yes, sure. Ward is an asshole, he won't get a rise out of me."

"I'm sure he won't," Anthony agrees. "Look, I don't know what they did to you."

He looks up at him at that, eyes dead. "No you don't."

"It's not important, I don't need to know. I am pretty sure I don't _want_ to know," Anthony says. "But I think it's important for you to understand that I caved. When Ward almost drowned me, and when he burned my hand, I begged. I would have said or done anything he asked, just to survive."

"Maybe," Barnes says, looking at the ground. "But then you regrouped, and you rebelled. I tried-"

No, that won't do. Anthony cuts in. "How long did they have you, Barnes?"

"Four years," he says, and Anthony shivers just thinking about it.

"How long did you resist? The first time?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"A long time, right?" Anthony asks. "And hell, even if was only seconds, it's not important. There's no shame in wanting the pain to stop."

"It took a year, I'd say. It had started snowing again," Barnes admits.

Anthony curses. "Those animals. I'll find them, and they will pay."

The corner of Barnes' mouth tilts up. "You sound like Steven would, if he knew."

"You didn’t tell him?" Anthony is not a big fan of sharing either, but keeping in that huge amount of trauma must not be good.

"Sam has an idea," Barnes admits. "And Nat."

"You should tell Steven," Anthony says. "He's your best friend, it's important."

Barnes looks at him inquisitively, and with some distrust. "Why do you care?"

Anthony walks close and makes sure they have prolonged eye contact. "I got tortured for minutes, maybe an hour, and I folded. You fought for a year. And then fought again, I'd bet. If you think I don't care, well I'm sorry to say we have little to say to each other."

It wasn't meant to shame Barnes, quite the contrary, but the man sighs. "Steve doesn't need this. He worries too much as it is."

"Situation reversed, would you want to know?"

He puts his face in his hands and huffs. "Of course. Of course."

"There you go," Anthony says.

"You know, it's not because you've made out with my best friend that I'll listen to anything you have to say," Barnes says.

Anthony laughs. "Of course not. Though, to be honest, it was a lot more than making out, but whatever."

That earns him a raised eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"I said too much," Anthony says, raising his hands, but it's hard to reign in the smug smile he feels stretching on his face. "Steven's not a saint, and he's not fragile."

"Yeah, maybe not. But if you hurt him, it won't change a thing that you're a king. I'll make you pay."

"Ohhh, the shovel talk!" Anthony says, grinning. "I'm honored."

"It's no joke, Stark," Barnes says and yeah, he seems serious.

"And the last thing I want is to hurt him. Cross my heart and hope to die," Anthony says solemnly. "I'll need your help, though. I might, without wanting to, upset him. If you could tell him to speak up if it happens, I'd appreciate it."

"I'm not your relationship advisor," Barnes says, rolling his eyes.

"No, that's Rhodey's job, may he like it or not," Anthony agrees and Barnes snorts in amusement. "Look, I'm no good at this. And I really want it to work."

"Good to know. He's head over heels for you, has been for a while," he says. "He's big and broad, but he's sensitive."

"I noticed. And I'm very invested, too, I swear. Now, let's get back to the asshole in the wagon." Barnes nods, immediately focused. "The reason he's still breathing is that I want to use him to confront Stane. Ward is sly, and he's dangerous. He's a ruthless fighting machine, but as you saw he tries to get in people's head too."

"He's got nothing on me, and I can do my job," Barnes says, affronted.

"I know you can," Anthony reassures. "You didn't even twitch with his taunting. It's Steven I'm worried about. He has to be kept away from Ward at all times."

"As much as I hate to say it, I agree," Barnes says.

"And we don't know who else is Hydra. The list of people I trust is very short: Steven, Rhodey, Clint, Wilson, Jarvis, Pepper and you. Maybe Banner, Lady Natasha and Thor. I don't even trust those other guards, not really."

"I don't know how you can trust me," Barnes says. It's a good question, but Anthony has a gut feeling about this. But then again, he was sure he could trust Obie.

"Because Rhodey and Steven trust you, and I trust them. At one point, it has to be enough."

"I shook off Hydra. I swear," Barnes says.

"And I said I believe you," Anthony reassures. "But you might have to play Hydra to ferret out the traitors in Winterfell, like Rhodey told me you did with the guy in charge of the crows. It must make your skin crawl-"

"It does," Barnes says. "But I can do it, to make them pay."

"Excellent, thank you. Also, I think half of my problems with Ward would go away if he couldn't speak. Can you take care of that?"

A slow and mean smile stretches on Bucky's face. "I've got to give that much to Ward, he's right when he says you are the brain of this operation."

Anthony laughs. "I have my moments. Do that, and I'll get Steven. Then we can go home."

"Yes Your Majesty," Barnes says, straightening up for a salute.

"Goddamnit, Barnes, call me Anthony," he says with a roll of eyes. "Didn't I just say you are in my intimate trust circle? Come on, man!"

"Fine. I've got this, Boss," Barnes says and at least there is a ghost of a smile on his face now.

Anthony sighs, acting put upon, but he thinks he did something okay, at least. "Brat. Yes, you are a brat. I'll be back in a few, get everyone ready."

Now he only has to go calm Steven down and they should be good to go.


	17. Chapter 17

The rock Steven throws at the water ricochets at least seven times on the surface of the river, but the neat little hops only annoy him. He's only good at throwing things, it seems. He can't even protect the people he loves.

Thinking about Ward, how Steven almost endangered the whole troop... he's ashamed, and he's furious at himself. Steven saw, as he walked off, how Ward hands were free. It's easy to imagine that Ward could have taken his sword if he'd come close as he wished to throttle him. It's a good thing that Anthony had seen through his little game, because Steven absolutely had not. He'd thought Ward was only goading Bucky, twisting the knife in the wounds he knows are still raw.

"Steven?"

He whirls around, not having heard anyone coming. He relaxes when he sees it's Anthony, approaching cautiously.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"I'm still pissed," Steven says, not adding that it's now more at himself. "But I'm calm. I'm sorry, that was unprofessional."

Anthony shakes his head and walks close enough to put a hand on Steven's crossed arms. He hadn't even realized he was in such a defensive position towards Anthony and he forces himself to relax.

"Nothing to be sorry about. It's commendable, wanting to avenge your friend," Anthony says.

"And you," Steven says, feeling his voice wanting to crack. He had no idea. "Is it true? That not only they took you, put you in that stupid cell and made you work for them, but that Ward tortured you?"

"It's okay, I'm fine," Anthony says reassuringly, rubbing Steven's arm over the chain mail. He'd put his light armor back as they left the Lieber's farm..

"Not it's not okay!" Steven shouts, before lowering his voice when Anthony flinches. By the Gods, no, scaring him is the last thing he ever wants to do. Steven reaches back, takes hold of Anthony's shoulder, firmly, and is reassured when he immediately rolls into the touch, trusting. "It's so far from okay."

"Okay, I agree. It was no fun, at all. And what Barnes went through was worse. But it doesn't mean we need you to fight our battles, Love."

He understands that on a certain level, but Steven wishes to fight for them. To do something useful for once.

"It's just- I saw red." The Gods hear him, Ward was being so despicable.

"Ward knows how to push buttons. Can you please promise me to stay far? I need him alive a little more. I won't let you be the cyanide Clint took from his mouth."

And... wow, he hadn't thought about that.

"Fine, I won't listen to him anymore," Steven promise.

Anthony grins, so pleased by such a little concession.

"That's my boy," he says.

Steven wants to gather Anthony close and kiss him, but they are in view of the men. He's not sure he wants to make a spectacle of their relationship. Even less to Ward.

"What did Bucky says? Is he okay?" Steven asks as they walk towards the men.

"I think so, though he's hard to read," Anthony says. "He's a tough guy, he'll deal with Ward."

Case in point, in the distance they can see that Bucky has reached the wagon that holds Ward. He's makes an impatient gesture, and even points in their direction, which Steven does not understand what it is about. Anthony might know because he makes the 'forward' hand motion.

"What's going on?" he asks.

Anthony shrugs. "Frankly? Not sure. But he's got this."

The guards open the wagon's door and Bucky hops in, which makes many people react, including Steven. Shit, what if Ward tries to escape? But no, he's sitting in a corner, and he doesn't even flinch as the guard closes the door behind Bucky, trapping them together. Ward's hands are secured, now, but he still looks totally unbothered, at least from what Steven can see.

It's hard to tell if Bucky says anything, they are in profile, but it doesn't seem like it. But he takes a hell of a swing and socks Ward right in the jaw.

"Whoa!" Anthony exclaims. A quick look shows he's surprised.

"You didn't ask him to do that?" Steven asks.

"Not exactly, no," Anthony says. He's smirking, unbothered by the twist.

Steven understands, he likes to see Ward hurting, too. In fact, he wishes he was the one who'd just punched him. Bucky has crouched in front of Ward and takes him by the hair, then forces him to looks up and miraculously there's not even a taunt. In fact, both men stay silent for a while, looking at each other. When Steven gets to the side of the wagon, it's with satisfaction that he notes Ward looking away first. He's not idle for long though, sees him and Anthony are back and smiles, teeth bloody, only to be forced to look up at Bucky again.

"I'm tired of your shit," Bucky says. "We all are."

"It's not my fault you are uneasy hearing the truth."

Knowing Anthony is back as an audience is sure giving Ward some incentive to talk shit. Or maybe it's to taunt Steven again.

Bucky violently pushes Ward's head against the bar of the cage and shoves a rag he took from his back pocket into his mouth. He follows quickly with another piece of cloth that he wraps twice around Ward's head before making a tight knot. He tries to resist, but it's futile and he's quickly securely gagged.

"There. Much better," Bucky says, getting up and wiping his hands on his pants, as if touching Ward was unpleasant.

"I like your style, Barnes," Anthony cries out and Bucky looks over at him and smirks.

"Told you I had this, Boss," Bucky says.

It makes Steven feel a lot better because nothing unsettles him more than when Bucky gets in one of his detached moods. It seems like he shook that one fast with Anthony's help, and Steven is so grateful.

"I cannot believe we didn't think of this before," Sam says. "It would have saved me from almost straining my eyes, with the amount of eye rolling I've done since we left Icemark." On his shoulder, Redwing screams his approval.

Wards eyes are murderous.

"You won't talk until we decide you do," Anthony says. "And then, you better watch it, because I'll have your tongue taken out."

It's an idle threat. Steven doesn't believe Anthony would do something like that even if the idea of a permanently mute Ward is appealing.

"I'd like to borrow a cape with a hood," Anthony tells the group, now ignoring Ward. "Anyone has one for me?"  
Steven would offer his, but it doesn't have a hood. Several men scramble for theirs, though one is quicker, throwing his cape at Anthony.

"It's good, opaque material," Hunter says.

He's new to the garrison, an ex-mercenary that came highly recommended by one of Commander Rhodes' and Barton's friend, a man named Coulson. Steven doesn't know Hunter well, but he's a funny guy, and quite a smart mouth. 

"Caught on, huh," Anthony says. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Lance Hunter, Your Majesty," he says.

"And what has Hunter caught onto, exactly?" Commander Rhodes asks Anthony.

"Since we stopped all birds, and most probably all the men in Icemark, it comes to reason that no one knows I'm free," Anthony says.

"You want to go back to Winterfell incognito," Steven realizes.

"Yes, for a bit," Anthony says, putting on the cape over Young Larry's clothes. "The cage and Ward will stay behind while I do so, for obvious reasons. Only me, Commander Rhodes, Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes and another soldier, let's say you Hunter I like you already, go back to Winterfell for now." 

"What, I don't get to be in on the fun?" Clint says with a pout.

"I need you, Wilson and the others to watch tall, dark and now mute," Anthony says. "I'll be able to trust he doesn't have a chance of escaping far if you're there."

"He won't escape even a little," Clint promises.

"I'm not sure we can trust Hunter," Bucky says, staring at the man.

"Hey!" he exclaims, looking affronted. "I am very trustable!"

"He can be a hothead, but he's not Hydra," Clint says.

"Thank you," Hunter says.

"Says you?" Bucky asks Clint, and Steven can't help but agree.

"Yeah, says me," Clint says. "Coulson trusts him, too."

"And I do too," Commander Rhodes adds.

"Hey, he passes the two people I trust test!" Anthony says, clapping his hands together. "How fantastic. So it's settled. It shouldn't be long before the rest of you come home, meanwhile stop at the Walker mill. I'll send Hunter to tell you when it's safe to come back," Anthony says.

"Fine, that's cool," Sam says.

"The others, with me please, I'll explain along the way," Anthony says, mounting his horse.

As usual Anthony is riding up front with Commander Rhodes and Steven falls in synch with Bucky. Behind them, Hunter follows with a self-satisfied smile on his face. It's quite a vote of confidence he just got.

"You doubt him? Hunter?" Steven asks.

Bucky shrugs. "I doubt everyone but you."

And even with the compliment it entails, it's a depressing thought. A change of subject is in order.

"So," Steven asks. "Did it feel good to hit that son of a bitch?"

"You bet," Bucky says with a smirk.

"You okay?" Steven cannot resist asking.

Bucky looks at him and raises an eyebrow. "I should be the one asking, since you're the one who flipped out."

"Not my finest moment," Steven admits with a grimace.

"As your man said-" Bucky starts and Steven interrupts him immediately.

"For the Gods' sake, don't call him that!" He can feel the flush starting, it's embarrassing.

With a dismissive wave, Bucky continues. "Ward gets into people's head and learns how to push the right buttons. And now he knows yours is protectiveness, and I that I don't respond to taunting."

Steven is annoyed all over again. "What he was saying was despicable and-"

"And ultimately true," Bucky says.

"No!" Steven exclaims.

"Yes, it was," Bucky says. "It doesn't mean he gets to say that shit, though. Look, I'll- I'll tell you what happened."

Steven wants to know, wants to understand what happened to Bucky and maybe it will make it easier to help him. But he's always tried not to push.

"You don't need to-"

"I do. It's time. So when we have a minute, I'll tell you. It's not pretty."

Bucky is sitting ramrod straight on his horse, but doesn't seem as detached and defensive as he usually is when the subject of his time in the hands of Hydra comes up. Maybe he's ready to open up.

"I don't care, okay? I know it was terrible, and it shouldn't have happened-" he says haltingly. Why did it have to happen to Bucky?

"But it did. And they got to King Anthony, too. But he's strong, he'll be fine," Bucky says.

And that's another thing that makes Steven's stomach knots itself.

"They said torture," Steven says, looking at Anthony and he finds comfort in the way he looks outwardly fine.

"Yeah."

"Did he... did he tell you?"

All the scenarios that flash through Steven's mind are horrible. In the bath, the night before, Anthony looked unmarked. Just bruises that could be explained by the fight for his escape.

"A bit, no details. It's not something you share stories about. Anyway, it's not my place to tell," Bucky says with a shrug.

"Should I ask him about it?" Steven asks.

"Do you want to know?"

"Yes. Like I want to know for you."

"Then ask him," Bucky says. "He might answer you, maybe not. Or maybe not now but he will later. I am sure he doesn't want to worry you."

"Hey, listen up!" Commander Rhodes says.

Him and the king have stopped and turned around, waiting for them to catch up.

"I thought I'd lay out my idea. Feel free to chime in," Anthony says as they make a loose circle with their horses.

"So as said earlier, I want to get in Winterfell unnoticed, cue the hood. Rhodey and you, Cap, will play at coming back to base to readjust the search. Obie will ask to meet you, for an update. Barnes and Hunter will immediately go to the crow guy, and get him to give the names of the Hydra agents. I want them identified and if possible in a cell before it's known I'm back."

"No," Bucky says, shaking his head. It figures he doesn't want to play that charade again, with the way it turned him inside out the first time. Before anyone asks for explanations, Bucky continues. "It will only work if I'm alone. Unless Hunter is known Hydra."

"I am bloody not!" Hunter exclaims.

"Anyway, I don't want you without protection," Commander Rhodes tells Anthony. "Hunter will stay with you."

"Fine," Anthony says. He turns to Bucky, looking concerned "Are you sure you are okay with this?"

"Absolutely," Bucky says.

"What about you guys?" Anthony asks Commander Rhodes and Steven. "Will you be able to restrain yourselves from hitting Stane in the face until I make my magical reappearance?"

Commander Rhodes scoffs. "We did before going to Icemark, I think we can hold on a little more."

Steven nods. "Yeah." It will be tempting, but he can hold off.

"Then we're all set," Anthony says. "Rhodey, keep Stane busy as I go through his room. I'm pretty sure I won't find anything, but it's worth a shot."

"His personal study is in there," Commander Rhodes says with a nod.

"Once I've searched, I'll meet you in the council room, or wherever you're at. I can't wait to see his face," Anthony says, jaw set tight now. It must be such an intimate betrayal, a relative but also one of his closest advisor, one his father trusted too.

Plan set, they ride again, in a tense silence this time. A couple of leagues before Winterfell, Anthony puts the hood over his head. Steven cannot wait for the day to be over so he can take him in his arms and try to make things a little better.


	18. Chapter 18

Entering Winterfell after days away always feels good, but now that they are bringing Anthony home it feels great. They only need to do a little cleaning out of Hydra, and everything should be fine. Their arrival generates the usual turning of heads, and they hurry to the stables. Peter comes running, looking hopeful, but his face falls.

"Haven't found the king yet, huh?" he asks, not realizing that the man with the hood tying his horse to a post behind Steven is the man himself.

"We're close," Steven says. "I'm sure of it."

Anthony's horse, a stall over, starts to neigh, drawing attention. 

"Quiet boy, I'll come back to see you later," Anthony whispers softly. He caresses the horse's nose before he slips out of the stables with Hunter on his heels. Bucky disappears just as quickly.

"Peter," Steven calls out when the boy frowns towards the horse, then looks at Anthony's retreating back. It is suspicious, Titanium being so temperamental he tolerates only a handful of people. "I think Snowpiercer had a limp, earlier, though it stopped later. Might be nothing, but can you check it out for me, please?"

"For sure Captain," Peter says, taking the reins. "What is up, beautiful?" he asks the horse, taking it outside.

"Good thinking," Commander Rhodes says, giving Anthony's horse a handful of hay. "This horse has always been trouble. A lot like his master."

"Should we go find the counselor immediately?" Steven asks.

"We could eat, first," Commander Rhodes says. "Give them time." To Bucky and Anthony both.

"Sure, I'm kinda hungry too," Steven agrees. The drama at their stop cut his lunch short, and his stomach growls at the prospect.

Mack of the Royal Guards is reaching the stables as they exit. Words travel fast.

"Commander, Captain," he says with a salute.

"Mackenzie. Is everything under control here?" the Commander asks after saluting back.

"Yes Commander," Mack says.

"We're going stop by the kitchens first, but could you warn Counselor Stane of our arrival and say we'll meet him in the Council room?" Commander Rhodes asks.

It's logical procedure, coming back from the searches. Plus it assures Stane will be kept away from his room while Anthony searches it.

"Yes, Ser," Mack says. "May I ask?"

Like Peter, he looks genuinely hopeful. It's impossible to know for sure who is Hydra, but Steven has known Mack for years and has always been dependable and level-headed. He wishes he could tell him the truth right now.

"We're sure we're close," Commander Rhodes says, recycling Steven's line, who nods along. "See you later for a debrief."

"Yes Commander." Mack salutes and leaves to deliver his message as Steven walks to the kitchen with the commander.

"I hate to think that good men could be Hydra," the Commander says.

"Same. But Bucky will expose them." Steven is convinced. Dain who keeps the crows totally bought that he was still the Winter Soldier.

It's just after regular supper time so the kitchens are still busy, staff mostly cleaning the pots, pans and dishes. As fate would have it, one of the first person they meet is Flo, coordinating the efforts while she dries plates. She is quite stunning, tall for a woman and her very blond hair held tight in a bun at the top of her head. She grins when they enter the kitchen, and the little green monster in Steven's stomach awakens. It's stupid, he knows perfectly well that all that went on between her and Anthony is harmless flirting.

"Commander, Captain, welcome back!" she says. It's true that she has her mother's eyes.

"Thank you and good evening, Flo," Commander Rhodes says.

"Did you bring the king home?" she asks and again Steven feels bad that they need to lie. He thinks Anthony should see this, to realize how appreciated he is.

"I wish it was that simple," Commander Rhodes says and Flo sighs.

"I hoped you'd rescue him this time. The king is a good man. Also, he takes so little care of himself on a normal day, and now he's with criminals? I worry. I cannot wait for him to be home, so we can take care of him properly," she says.

Steven knows the feeling, he's lived with it with weeks. Has to bite his tongue not to say he'll be the one taking care of Anthony, thank you very much.

"Careful," Commander says laughing. "If Tony realizes he can take advantage of this ordeal to be coddled, he will be all over that when he comes back."

He'd have every right to, in Steven's opinion.

"I suppose you're hungry?" Flo asks, putting down her now dry plate and gesturing for them to sit down at the table set in the corner of the kitchen. "I have beef stew, also some chicken left."

 

Right, they need to get right on that plan. Flo is making plates, chatting with the commander, when Steven spots Jarvis at the kitchen's door.

"I'll be right back," he says, and Commander Rhodes nods.

Jarvis looks as put together as usual, but Steven knows he's been anxious about Anthony. The man has known and taken care of Anthony since he was a child, even in his years at Casterly Rock, and he's more of a parent figure to him that King Howard ever was. That's why Steven doesn't waste a second to give the good news, whispering as soon as they are alone in the corridor.

"We've got him, he's fine and here in the castle."

"Thank the Gods," Jarvis says, sagging for a second before he finds his composure again. He grabs Steven's arm firmly. "Thank you, Captain, thank you so much."

"I barely have anything to do with it," Steven says with a smile. "We'll tell you everything, but just know for now that he rode in with us earlier, incognito, and wanted to search Counselor Stane's room first."

"Of course. Well there's nothing there," Jarvis says.

Steven should not be surprised. "And you know that because you searched it already?"

Jarvis smirks. "Let's say that Lady Natasha and I were thorough without, hopefully, leaving any trace of the search. We found nothing conclusive."

"Then go see Anthony and tell him that. We were stalling going to meet the counselor while him and Bucky do their thing…"

"Sergeant Barnes is looking for the Hydra agents? I have a list of suspects."

"You should compare, later. It's almost over, Jarvis."

"Understood. And thank you again, Captain."

While Jarvis goes to Anthony, Steven rejoins the commander to eat his meal. They linger to give Bucky more time to convince the crow guy to give up everyone Hydra, but eventually go to the Council room, where Stane is waiting for them. His assistant Killian is with him, pouring wine. The mere idea of drinking with Stane as if everything is fine turns Steven's stomach.

"Commander, Captain," Stane says, rising from the desk where he was writing. "I'm sorry the search was unfruitful. Did you learn anything new?"

Steven's got to give it to the man again, he's a good actor. He seems discomfit and sympathetic. The hypocrisy makes Steven's blood boil and he has to closes his hands in fist behind his back.

"It's hard to have good information, and even to identify suspects since they are very non-descript," the commander says. "There has been questioning around White Harbor, and I think next we could search down the coast, towards Port Real."

"Is it wise?" Stane asks. "I mean, I know it's nothing either of us want to think about, but it's been eight weeks now and not one word. Absolutely no one contacted us with demands, and even the offers to help are dwindling down as time passes."

"What are you saying?" Steven says, taking a step forward and leaning in. It's not true that Anthony's real friends would give up that easily. "We should stop the search?"

Stane raises his hands in a placating gesture. "No, no, of course not."

The door opens and Steven heart skips, thinking it must be Anthony. It's not, though, and they all look at the intruder with a frown. Council meetings are generally respected and uninterrupted. It takes a second, but Steven recognizes Dain the crow guy at the door. He is flushed, excited about something.

"I'm sorry my lords, so very sorry. I need to borrow Killian a minute?"

"What is the problem, Dain?" Stane asks. "Did we get a message that requires attention?"

"Oh, no!" Dain says. "Nothing like that. I just need to speak with Killian."

"Can't it wait?" Killian says. He doesn't seem particularly enthusiast at the idea to follow Dain. In fact, it makes him look bad to be asked to leave his post.

"It really cannot wait, I am sorry," Dain says, wringing his hands.

"May I?" Killian asks Stane who makes a dismissive gesture.

"Fine, make it quick."

"I am sorry Commander, Captain," Killian says with a little bow as he gets out.

The door is not even closed that they can hear Killian hissing "What the hell, Dain?"

"That seemed pressing," Commander Rhodes says, taking a chair.

Steven doesn't think he can act casual, not really, so he goes to the drink tray abandoned by Killian and pours himself a glass of wine. Only fools don't change their minds, and anyway he doesn't plan to toast with Stane, just get a drink. He rarely touches alcohol when on duty, but maybe it will calm his nerves a little.

"I have no idea what it's about," Counselor Stane says, visibly bothered. Since it's probably Bucky's doing, that means two Hydra agents, very close to Stane. He's bound to be suspicious about their sudden need to talk to each other. Smart enough not to let his annoyance show too much, Stane focuses back on their previous conversation. "How was the search? You haven't been gone long, I thought you were heading for the seaboard."

"That was the plan," Commander Rhodes says, nodding. "But two day out we met with patrols that were coming back to report."

"And?" Stane asks, angling towards the commander, the perfect picture of interested.

"Just rumors," the commander says. "But more and more persistent. I sent the man around to continue their work and I think we should requisition at least one more company."

Stane sighs and leans back in his chair, passing a hand on his face as if he's weighed down by the decisions to take.

"More men?"

"One more company," Steven pipes up. "At least. I am sure Thor would not mind to lending manpower for the search."

"I am not sure if that's wise," Stane says. He surely doesn't want Thor more involved, since the man has been a steady force defeating Hydra for years. "I think we should scale the search down for a bit, and focus in one area at the time? Winterfell has been with weakened defense personnel for a long time, it could give ideas to some people."

"What, like people staging a coup to take my throne? Nah, I think some people are subtler than that. You know, staging accidents and kidnappings, for example," Anthony says, appearing from behind a tapestry. Of course he waited for the perfect moment to make an entrance and it makes Steven smile into his cup of wine.

The cloth adorned with a boar hunt scene must hide a door and passage. The castle is full of them and Steven has no doubt Anthony explored every nook and cranny of Winterfell as soon as he could give the slip to his nanny. He has changed clothes, a simple black ensemble with a gray direwolf in the front, covered by a long gray cape, with a hood. He still has his sword belt, with the blade he brought back from Icemark judging by the handle. Anthony looks sober but regal, and no one would guess he was captive only a day and a half before. Hunter appears half a second later and he takes position at parade rest, eyes far, the perfect discreet guard for now. Not his usual, by a long shot, but appropriate in the circumstances and he's definitely scoring points in Steven's book.

When Steven manages to bring his eyes back to Stane, he sees shock on his face for an instant, but it rapidly turns into a big smile.

"Anthony, you're back! You rascal, why play a game with me?" he says, getting up and taking a step towards Anthony, as if he wants to take him in an embrace.

The king shuffles back, face incredulous, and simultaneously Commander Rhodes springs up from his chair. Meanwhile Steven takes a stride forward, between Anthony and Stane, who has the gall to look affronted at the show of protectiveness.

"What the hell?" he asks, mouth down-turned and scowling.

"I think that's my line, Obie," Anthony says. "Stay away from me."

"I do not understand what is going on. I would never hurt you," Stane says.

Anthony sighs. "And I once would have believed that." He turns to Steven, sees the cup of wine still in his hand and grabs it, before downing the content. Once done he looks up at Steven with a small smile. "By the Gods, I needed that. Sorry gorgeous."

"It's fine," Steven says, taking the cup back with a smile.

"Is someone about to explain?" Counselor Stane asks. "I am thrilled that you're back, Anthony, but I don't like feeling accused."

"You _are_ being accused," Anthony says.

"Of what?" Stane crosses his arms over his chest.

"Conspiring, kidnapping, probably murder for my parents," Anthony says, counting on his fingers.

"Being Hydra," Commander Rhodes adds.

"Nonsense," Stane protests. "I never laid a hand on you, Howard or your mother, Anthony."

"Because you have cronies to do your dirty work," Steven says.

Stane hits the table with a fist. "I've been advising this family for years!"

"And I think you got a taste for power and now want it for yourself. Or some other Hydra related shenanigans," Anthony says, pouring himself another cup of wine.

"You keep saying Hydra-" Stane says, shaking his head.

"We're rounding up the sympathizer right now, by the way," Steven says. He is satisfied when Stane clenches his jaw, probably thinking of his assistant Killian going with Dain earlier. "Oh and we have Grant Ward."

Stane scoffs. "Grant Ward."

"Yeah. You know the guy who tried to force me to make weapons like this one?" Anthony asks, unsheathing his blade a couple of inches so the red reflects, before pushing it down in the scabbard. "Not many people knew I could make those. Very few."

"And that's your proof?" Stane says with a raised eyebrow. He doesn't look worried that Ward would have given him up. "Because I know you are Iron Man? I had quite a bit to drink after the tourney. Frankly, I don't remember the end of the night all that clearly. It's possible I talked with Ward, and if I gave away your secret, which I am not sure I did or not, I am truly sorry. I had no idea he could go to such extremes."

The lies pouring out so casually have Steven's blood boiling. There is no way it's just that.

Anthony blinks. "Huh, you are good."

"Agreed," Commander Rhodes says. "And I might be tempted to believe that excuse if we hadn't found Tony because we followed a crow to Icemark that was holding a message from you to the kidnappers."

For the first time Stane looks destabilized a tad. "Followed a crow?"

"Yes. It flew directly from Winterfell to Icemark," Steven says.

"Where Tony was prisoner," Commander Rhodes says.

"You are all insane. I have nothing to do with this," Stane protests.

Anthony sighs. "Goddamnit, I am tired of this. Look, I could behead you right here and now, and no one would blame me." Stane goes very rigid, but he heard the 'could', so he knows it's not for now. "But you will have a trial. Until then, though, you will stay in your room, with no contact."

"This is outrageous!" Stane says, throwing up his arms and Anthony, who hadn't raised his voice yet steps around Steven and gets in his face.

"Outrageous is being kidnapped and given to Hydra! By someone you trust!" he shouts, throwing his cup against a wall. Anthony is a big talker, and not known to lose his temper, but he's spitting mad. "Be grateful I don't throw you in a dungeon! And don't test me because I could change my mind. About the beheading, too."

The tension in the room is thick as they stare at each other, Anthony almost sneering. In the end Obadiah steps back.

"Fine. A trial then."

"Come with me," Commander Rhodes says, walking to the door. With a last glare at everyone, Stane follows.

When the door closes, Steven doesn't quite know how to act with Anthony, who is still wound up and upset.

"Fuck!" Anthony swears, then puts his palms over his face, taking a deep breath.

Hunter makes an uneasy grimace at Steven, which says he doesn't quite know what to do either.

Steven doesn't want to ask if Anthony is okay as he's visibly not. Saying everything will be fine seems callous too. He finally says the only thing that feels right.

"I'm sorry."

Anthony exhales and turns to them. He looks tired and sad. "Yeah, me too."

"Anything you need me to do, Your Majesty?" Hunter asks.

"Yeah, go back to Clint and the others, tell them it's okay to come home," Anthony says. "I want Ward in the coldest, dampest dungeon we have, and in total isolation."

"Got it," Hunter says. He turns before he exits, a hand on the door. "If I may, that old geezer is a sack of shit. I know a liar when I see one."

It makes the corner of Anthony's mouth lift a little. "Thank you for your input, Hunter."

"My pleasure," Hunter says with a wink and he's gone, closing the door behind him.

"How are you holding up?" Steven asks.

Anthony shrugs, but it's obvious he's not doing that great. Instead of answering, he walks to Steven and stops only when he's close enough to grab hold of Steven's shirt and press his forehead on his shoulder. It's automatic that Steven's arms embrace him, though Anthony doesn't hug back, just holds on.

"I want to believe him so bad," Anthony says, breath hitching.

"I know," Steven says, running a hand up and down Anthony's back soothingly. "I wish it was true."

"Yeah," Anthony says. Steven kisses the top of his head and holds him closer.

They stay like that for long minutes, just standing together, and only break apart when there's a knock on the door.

"Steve?" It's Bucky.

"We're here, come in," Steven says.

Bucky enters the council room and closes the door behind him. He still has his hair undone, Winter Soldier style.

"How did it go?" Anthony asks.

"Well. Dain was more than eager to help. I had them meet down in the cells, saying it would guarantee privacy. There's seven of them. Dain, Stane's assistant Killian, Roger at the armory, and four soldiers. Plus three that are currently South on search teams."

"Who? Steven asks. He can't believe some of his men were Hydra.

"Ulric, Bennon, Rulf, Donald, Big William, Francis and Walter," Bucky say with a grimace.

Not one is someone Steven would have suspected and it's disheartening. Good soldiers, that Steven trusted. Francis has even been with him North of the Wall.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Once by themselves, they were all pro Hydra. In fact, they were almost creaming themselves when I said I had an important task for them from Hydra, which was the lure to get them together. Dain asked why Stane wasn't there."

Anthony stiffens and then sighs. "There's our answer, then."

"We knew that," Bucky says with a frown.

"Stane played the falsely accused card very well," Steven says, and he wishes he could comfort Anthony a little more. He hoped that Stane hadn't betrayed him.

"We will put him on trial," Anthony says. "What are the chances that someone will testify about his part in everything that has been going on?"

"The soldiers won't," Bucky says. "Best would be his assistant and Dain, since they had direct access to the messages that were sent. But I don't see Killian turning so that leaves Dain. It's best to isolate him, let me deal with him until his testimony."

"Check them all for cyanide," Anthony says. "As much as I like the idea of not having to deal with them, I need these infos."

Bucky nods. "Can I ask for Lady Natasha's help? And Barton's when he gets back?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Barnes. It wouldn't have been possible to have an efficient screen without you," Anthony says.

"Not a problem," Bucky says, looking pleased. "I'll sleep better knowing the snakes have been found out."

"Yeah, me too," Anthony says. He takes a deep breath and cracks his neck. "I'd go and sleep right now, in fact, but guess I should go announce that I'm home first?"

Steven shrugs. "It can wait until tomorrow."

"Nah, let's get it done," Anthony says. "The Hydra scum are secure?"

"Yes. Once I was assured that he was clean, I told Mack to makes sure of it before coming over," Bucky says.

"Good. Okay, so I guess the easiest way to do this is going to the Great Hall," Anthony says. He passes his fingers in his hair, turns to Steven. "Do I look okay? I'm going for back and in control."

"You are beautiful," Steven says honestly and it surprises a laugh out of Anthony.

"You flatterer!" he says, grinning, and taps Steven's chest with affection. "Okay, let's get that party going."

When Steven looks at Bucky, who is tying up his hair, he's got a smirk on his face.

"You've got more game than I thought, buddy," he says as Steven passes by him, following Anthony out the door towards the common room.

"Shut up," Steven says, feeling a blush coming on.

They are joined by Commander Rhodes along the way, and the first person who sees them drops her broom in shock when she sees the king. It's an older woman that Steven knows has been serving the Starks forever.

"May the Gods be praised, King Anthony!" she says, beaming. "I didn't know you were back!"

"You're the first to know apart from my rescue party Mabel!" Anthony says with a smile. "I'm on my way to the Great Hall, to let everyone know. Come with us?"

Mabel nods. "Yes, yes, of course. I am so happy to see you safely back home. We were so worried. Were you hurt? Are you well?"

"I'm great, thank you. Thrilled to be back," he says, taking Mabel's hand and putting it in the crook of his arm as he'd do while escorting a noble lady. It makes Mabel blush, even though she is old enough to be his mother. "How's your health? I think I heard Maester Banner say you were quite sick when I- when I left."

"It's nice of you to ask, Your Majesty. I am doing great, and yes it's thanks to Maester Banner. He had a quite miraculous cure for my ailment, I got better in a handful of days," she says.

"Good, I am happy to hear that. Would you mind getting the Maester from his room or his lab? He doesn't know I am back yet," Anthony says.

"Of course, yes," Mabel says. "Welcome home, King Anthony."

Just before they get to the common room, someone that Steven hasn't seen coming quickly passes right by him and goes directly for the king. It takes a fraction of a second for Steven to relax after recognizing Lady Natasha's red hair. She takes Anthony in a short hug before letting go and stepping back.

"Stark," she says dryly and with a nod, completely at odd with the show of affection that preceded. There is happiness in her eyes and the hint of a small smile though.

"Hello Natasha," Anthony says, smiling back. "Happy to see you too!" 

Natasha winks and then steps around Anthony to go to Bucky. She greets him by putting a hand on his neck and pulling him down for a kiss right on the mouth that leaves his best friend a little dazed.

"Message understood," Anthony says jokingly. "You're just glad your boyfriend's back. I'm hurt."

She doesn't even turn around, just raises her middle finger before kissing Bucky again, who is certainly not complaining. Anthony laughs and gestures for the commander and Steven to stay with him as he takes a deep breath and pushes the Great Hall room's door open.

"Now just who has got game, huh?" Steven can't resist saying to Bucky as he follows.

" _I_ always did," Bucky says with a smirk, an arm around Lady Natasha's waist now.

Steven rolls his eyes and focuses on the reaction of the people in the Great Hall. It's mid evening, so it's not crowded but still busy, with little groups scattered at the tables either in conversations or playing cards.

"Hey guys!" Anthony exclaims as he strolls in. "I know this is not a kingly entrance with trumpets and all, but I wanted to inform you that I'm back!"

There is a short stunned silence at first as all eyes turn to the king, but then cheers and clapping. It seem to sincerely shock Anthony as if he didn't suspect people cared at all. Steven hopes it helps to convince him that he is, indeed, loved as a king.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note for readers who don't care about sex scenes: this chapter is pretty much all smut...

Steven wakes because there is movement nearby and he feels he should be vigilant, not dreaming. It takes a moment to get situated, but it clicks when he meets Anthony eyes, who for one is completely awake.

"Hey," Steven grumbles, stretching.

The night before, the greeting in the Hall became bigger and bigger as the word got out. Pretty much all of Winterfell came to witness the return of the king. It was fine at first, but the more people crowded him - even though with genuine joy to see him and eager to say how much- the more Anthony became frazzled, smile tight and movements jerky. It was easy to forget he had been through a major ordeal so little ago. Also, he visibly he didn't care to deal with so many people at one time. After an hour, Commander Rhodes had put an end to it, saying the king had to rest. He had then sent him to his apartments to recharge. Steven dutifully walked him to his door, both to make sure he made it safely and because he loathed the idea to leave his side.

"I'm sorry Steven, I'm afraid that I'm past being of good company tonight," Anthony had said with a wince.

"I'd understand if you want to be alone," Steven said. "But if you want me to stay, just to be there like last night, I'm offering."

The last thing he wanted was to impose his company, but Anthony had nodded with a small smile. They had fallen in bed just holding on to each other, completely clothed and without a hint of something physical, not even a kiss. Steven hadn't slept a lick at the Liebers; he sunk in Anthony's ridiculously soft bed, as close as the man allowed, and totally lost track of everything not long after.

"You are quite a sight for sore eyes," Anthony now says, propped up on his elbow and looking down at Steven's face. He has no idea how long Anthony has been awake.

"Uh huh," he mumbles and Anthony grins.

"Sorry, sorry. I don't sleep much and I've been so good, waiting until you woke up."

"Is that so?" Steven asks, hooking an arm around Anthony's waist and hauling him up close. "Hey there," he rumbles.

"Hey soldier," Anthony says, laughing. "I'm sorry I was such poor company last night."

"Weren't," Steven says. He's quite amazed at how well Anthony coped with first Counselor Stane and then his loving subjects.

"Aren't you completely adorable," Anthony says, way too awake for the hour. As far as Steven can detect, it's not even day outside.

"Uh huh," Steven hums once more. "Sleep now."

Anthony laughs again, which is a delight just by the way crinkles appears at the corner of his eyes. "Nah, I don't think so. Good try, though. I have a better idea."

"No, sleeeeeep," Steven protests, dragging the word. He still feels heavy with it, not quite replenished after months of not sleeping well.

"Oh, you silly man. At least let me tell you what my idea is, before saying no!" Anthony says, as he starts walking his fingers on Steven chest, stopping to press on a nipple.

Surprised at the sensation, Steven gasps and arches into the touch. So it's that kind of idea, then. Suddenly he is a lot more interested in it.

"But you can say no, too," Anthony says, serious. "You can always say no."

They always come back to consent, and Steven pulls Anthony into a kiss to demonstrate that it's given, once again, completely freely.

"But it's yes," he assures against Anthony's lips, hands slipping down Anthony's back to reach his firm little ass. Damn. He will never get tired of being able to touch and knowing it's welcome.

"Good, very good," Anthony says, grinding into Steven's hip which showcases how eager he is too. "Do you have any idea how great it is to wake to you in my bed? Even with clothes?"

"I hope it's about as good as it is for me," Steven says.

Anthony smiles. "You are quite a sweet talker, Captain Rogers," he says before leaning in for another kiss.

There are very little words from then on, as they get rid of each other's clothes, too busy kissing and groping to be efficient about it. When they are finally naked, they are too worked up to do more than grind on each other with abandon. Anthony manages to wrap his hands around both of their cocks at the same time, and the overload of sensation proves to be too much – or just enough – for Steven. He comes messily on Anthony's stomach, who follows him a couple of strokes later. 

Once more the orgasm leaves Steven floaty, and he's starting to understand better the eagerness of some of his men towards sex. Steven isn't a stranger to jerking off, but sharing the intimacy and pleasure with someone else, especially someone he cares about so much like Anthony, is addictive. Having him relaxed and sated by his side as their heartbeats go down and the sweat cools on their bodies, kissing lazily just because they want to, is probably the best he's ever felt.

"It was a good idea," Steven whispers after a bit, and Anthony grins.

"I thought so. Best way to start a day, if you ask me," he says, stretching like a cat. Steven wants him all over again, but before he makes his desire known Anthony sighs and kisses his cheek. "Unfortunately I have to get up. I need to go run a kingdom or something."

"Already?" Steven pouts. "It's still night."

"It's very early morning, my darling," Anthony says, carding fingers in Steven's hair and that feels great. "It's not that I want to go, I need to. I've been away for a long time, and I need to see how Obi- huh Stane ran things while I was gone."

"It's your first morning," Steven says, holding Anthony a little closer. It's selfish, but he doesn't want to let go just yet.

"I know, I know," Anthony says, kissing him. "You know how busy my days are, right? I do want to make time for you, and I will. If I ever slip and work too much, you have to tell me, okay? I'm bad at time management."

It's reassuring to hear that, because he knows it's going to be difficult on that front. He'd asked, before the kidnapping, how many hours Anthony slept at night. He had answered three to four hours with a shrug as if it was normal. Steven doesn't want to be too clingy and hopes Anthony will want to spend time with him without feeling obligated to.

"I noticed," Steven says. "But for this morning, only this morning, is there anything that could convince you to stay a little more?" he asks, then starts mouthing at Anthony's throat. He slides his hand up and down Anthony's spine, slow but with intent.

Anthony hums, pliable under his ministration. "Tempting."

"Anything you want," Steven says, and his cock is filling up just thinking about it. He really hopes Anthony will want to stay, if not he'll have to jerk off by himself.

"Damn," Anthony says. He has noticed Steven's renewed interest because he closes his hand in a fist around his cock. Steven moans at the spike of pleasure even though he's ultra sensitive. "Anything at all?"

"Yeah, please," Steven says, not shy at all to beg. He's moving his hips into Anthony's strokes, eager, and fully hard again.

Anthony moves so he's straddling Steven's thighs, looking down at him. He's not erect yet, but chubbing up.

"Do you want me to blow you again?" he asks and it makes Steven keen. Anthony grins, delighted.

"Sure, Baby, I can do that," he says, bending forward to lick at Steven's abs. He's tasting their cooled come, Steven realizes, and it makes him moan again.

"Look at you," Anthony says with amazement. "So gorgeous. I'm going to make you feel so good."

"Please-please-please," Steven begs. He can feel Anthony's hot breath just next to his cock and he wants, so much.

He thought he was ready for Anthony's mouth, but it's still a shock when the soft and wet heat of it closes around the head of his cock. He swears, taking hold of the sheets on the bed as he tries to tether himself.

"Gods, yes," Steven pants. "So good."

It was good at the Liebers, but it seems even better now as Anthony sucks and bobs his head on his shaft. His earlier orgasm makes it at the same time easier to hold on and also extremely sensitive. Steven can feel every stroke of Anthony's clever tongue, and every twitch of his fingers at the base of his cock. He's wholly unprepared when there is a light touch up his taint, reaching his asshole. The unexpected bolt of pleasure almost makes him jackknife up in the bed.

"Holy shit!" he swears, breathing hard. Fuck that felt good.

Anthony pulls off his cock, and he looks extremely pleased when Steven meets his eyes, down his body.

"Liked that, Steven?" he asks, as if he doesn't know the answer already.

"Yeah, yes." It felt amazing.

"Do you trust me to make you feel good? I think you'd like a couple of fingers up your ass while I suck you," he says and it's like Steven can't quite string thoughts together anymore. He misses the heat of Anthony's mouth on his cock, and anything that gets it back there is good for him.

"Whatever you want, please," Steven says.

To his dismay Anthony moves away, but it's to get to a little bottle on his nightstand. Oil, Steven realizes when Anthony gets back, this time between his legs, and coats his fingers.

"Tell me if you want to stop," Anthony says, sliding slick fingers back up his crack, circling Steven's pucker. The sensation is incredible and Steven moves into the touch.

"No no no, don't stop," he begs.

Anthony puts his mouth to work again, and Steven closes his eyes, focusing on every touch. A finger circles and teases at his ass until Anthony gently pushes in and wow, he likes that. He loves in fact, especially when Anthony starts moving his fingers in time with the blowjob.

"Fuck, yes."

It's as if he doesn't know what to seek more: the heat on his cock or the finger in his ass. Then there's another gentle touch, against his rim. He realizes that it's a second finger, and Anthony is asking permission to add it.

"Yes, yes, come on," he says.

When Anthony moans around his dick, sending a wave of delicious sensation, it takes a second for Steven to realize it's because he unconsciously tangled his fingers into Anthony's hair. It's not that he wants to direct the way things are going - the Gods are witnesses that Anthony knows perfectly what he's doing -but it makes one more point of connection between them. And hey, if Anthony likes it that's great.

The whole buildup towards release is steady and strong, and if Steven had tensed a bit at the second's finger intrusion, it soon feels amazing. By this point, he is moving into the movements of Anthony's hand, and suddenly breath leaves him because there's a zing of pure pleasure going up his spine. He makes an inarticulate sound in response, and Anthony does it _again_.

"Holy shit, Gods, so good." He's barely able to form words, but it's imperative that Anthony not stop. Ever.

And he doesn't, sucking his dick and scissoring his fingers, taking take to regularly graze the sweet spot inside Steven. He's building a rhythm obviously meant to make him lose his mind, and it's working.

"More, more," he manages to say because there are more fingers. He wants another and hopes Anthony gets the message. Of course he does and praise the Gods, he goes for it.

"Yes, that, yes." He must sound like a complete hussy, but he doesn't give a damn at the moment.

Anthony pulls away, and when he talks his voice is scratchy, probably from taking him so deep for a while.

"By the Gods, Steven, you take it so good," he praises. "I want to fuck you so bad."

The possibility makes Steven's brain freeze for a second, then it's all that he can think about. The fingers feel great, and he can only imagine how Anthony's cock will fill him up.

"Yes, yes, do it," he urges. "Please. I want it, come on."

"You're going to kill me. May the Gods have mercy on my soul," Anthony says as he takes his fingers out of Steven's ass to slick his cock instead. "It would be easier for you if you turned."

Steven shakes his head no. "I want to see you. I'll be fine. Come on."

That earns him a heated kiss, and Steven lets his thigh fall open, canting his hips. "Please, Tony, please."

"Fuck," Anthony says, then finally lines up his cock and pushes in slowly. "Kill me dead, I swear. You're so fucking gorgeous. Tell me if you want to stop."

"No no no," Steven protests, even though a cock is a lot bigger than fingers. The pressure is unrelenting and Anthony stops often, which is at the same time welcome and utterly frustrating. They finally get to the point where Anthony is completely sheathed and he stops there, putting his face in Steven's neck.

"You feel so good, so hot and so tight. You okay?"

If he wasn't quite sure just a moment ago, the pause allowed for some adjusting to the sensation and Steven nods.

"Yes, good."

"Can I move?" Anthony's voice is strained, and he's almost vibrating at the effort it seems to take to keep still.

"Go slow," Steven asks, and Anthony complies.

It changes things, the slick glide of Anthony's cock transforming from somewhat uncomfortable to something different. A heat spreads in Steven that feels progressively better.

"Yeah, that's it," Anthony says. "You're doing great. Let me just-"

With a twist of hips Anthony manages to graze the sweet spot with his dick and it punches a groan out of Steven.

"There?" Anthony asks, doing it again. It sets off a burst of light behind Steven's eyelids.

"Yes, right there," Steven confirms, and he keens when Anthony hits it right on. "Oh, fuck."

"Still want me to go slow?" Anthony asks, mouthing at Steven's neck. "Whatever you want Baby, I'll give it to you."

"Faster," he asks, and good lords, the rhythm Anthony sets is fantastic. He doesn't want this to end, but he needs to come so bad. Maybe it's because he came not long ago, but Steven just can't seem to get there. "Harder," he demands.

"You sure? It's your-"

"I don't give a shit," Steven says, grabbing Anthony's hips and encouraging his motions. "Fuck me hard, make me come."

"Okay, okay, let me..." Without slipping out, Anthony rearranges them by slipping a pillow under Steven's ass and straightening up so he's now almost kneeling. He makes a circular grinding motion that make Steven arch his back, feeling him go so deep.

"Is like this okay?" Anthony's pupils are huge, and he's flushed, hair going every way. His mouth is still red from the earlier abuse and Steven is convinced he's never seen someone so beautiful.

"I don't know," he says. "Do you plan to fuck me anytime soon?"

He doesn't know what possesses him to be that demanding, but it makes Anthony chuckle.

"You're gonna be like that, huh? That works for me. I suggest you hold on to the headboard, Captain," he taunts, taking hold of Steven's thighs and hauling him closer, hitting the sweet spot to boot.

And then it's _on_. Anthony fucks him with firm short jabs, hard enough that Steven starts inching up the bed with every thrust. As suggested he puts his hands up and grabs the cast iron bars of the headboard to be able to push back into it. It feels absolutely amazing, spikes of pleasure making the overall sensations ratchet up and up and up. There is just something missing and he realizes that if he just pulls at his cock...

"Nuh huh," Anthony says, capturing his wrist and pushing it back over his head so he grabs the headboard again.

Steven is so, so close and he keens, frustrated. "Please, I need-"

"I know, just a second," Anthony is saying. He has stopped moving and Steven writes, trying to spur him on with his heels. "Just a second Sweetheart, I've got you."

The hold up turns out to be that Anthony has slicked a hand; when he closes it around Steven's straining cock, it takes things to a whole other level, especially when the hard fucking resumes. It's like being caught up in a continuous loop of sensation, and he doesn't know what he needs more while he moves between bucking up into Anthony's fist and pushing down to meet his dick. He gives himself totally to it, eyes closed and just letting the feeling swell, unable to articulate anything coherent.

"Fuck, fuck, you are _perfect_ ," Anthony praises.

It might be those words and the feeling behind them, or a stroke that is just right, but Steven is suddenly falling over the edge. The orgasm is so intense that he feels like something snaps, leaving reality for seconds of pure pleasure. It burst from his core to zing all over his body, bright and overwhelming. He's coming all over his chest, arching off the bed even though he's still holding the bars.

"That's it, good, so beautiful," Anthony says, voice a bit strangled as if he's holding to his own control with all he's got.

Still raked with aftershocks, Steven manages to slit his eyes open. He watches Anthony avidly, how his face is completely flushed and he's biting his lower lip while still pounding into Steven, rhythm now uneven. It still feels amazing, but starting to be more sensitive. Steven experimentally clenches around Anthony's cock, making him stutter.

"Oh," he says.

Anthony lets go of Steven's spent cock to pull him in a position that makes it easier for him to fuck in fast and shallow, chasing his own release. Steven squeezes again since it seems to be good for the both of them.

"Come on, Tony," he says, voice scratchy and low. "I want to see you come."

The result is almost instantaneous: three more trusts and Anthony's eyes all but roll up in his head while his mouth opens on a soundless gasp. His hips move for a couple more jerky pushes before he stills, panting and finally spent.

"Holy fuck, that was amazing," Anthony says as he gets rid of the pillow under Steven and, without pulling out, leans down until he's blanketing him, chest to chest.

Steven finally manages to let go of the headboard – it needs a special conscious command to make his fingers obey – and closes his arms around Anthony's back. He slides a hand up Anthony's spine until he's got a hold of his head and brings him into a kiss.

They soon need to break for air, as they are both still breathing hard, and Anthony kisses the tip of Steven's nose, his cheek, his lips again.

"I am so, so lucky," he says, caressing lightly the side of Steven's face. Anthony's eyes are so dark, almost black, but full of affection and wonder. "I love you, Steven."

"I love you too," Steven replies immediately.

They kiss some more and after a few minute Anthony carefully pulls out, now mostly soft. He then slides sideways, now cradled against Steven with his head on his shoulder, and sighs with satisfaction.

"Well that was worth staying a little more," he says. "Goddamn."

"Yeah," Steven replies. "It was... intense."

"It was earth-shattering, you mean," Anthony says with a grin. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Now who's the sweet talker," Steven says, a bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry I was so needy-" he starts saying and Anthony gets up on his elbow, looking down at him with a frown.

"What? No! You knew what you wanted and asked for it. I _love_ that. It's great. Don't you dare be embarrassed," he scowls gently.

It's reassuring, but Steven cannot help but feeling a bit shy about it. "Okay, if you are sure."

Anthony kisses him sweetly. "I am certain. Think about it, Sweetheart. If you were the one fucking me, wouldn't you want to know what I need?"

Said like that, he can indeed see his point. It makes him wonder what Anthony would ask for, and how hot it would be. If he hadn't come his brains out just minutes ago, and twice in short succession, he might be interested to test that. If Anthony is amenable to the idea, of course.

"Do you do that?" Steven asks.

"Being the one getting it? Or asking for what I need?" Anthony asks, and Steven nods for both. "Sure, I enjoy getting fucked, if my partner's into it. I'm versatile. Some people prefer one way, and that's okay too. I don't judge. As for asking, I'm definitely vocal," he says with a wink. "Maybe even more than you."

Steven scoffs, but yeah, he can imagine Anthony won't just lie down and be passive about anything.

"Look, Sweetheart, I know this is a lot and we've gone far very fast," Anthony says, back at caressing his face lovingly. "I loved every second. But if something bugs you, or if you want to ask questions, or slow down, it's fine. Sex must stay fun and if possible easy. You can put limits, and I'll tell you mines."

"You have limits?" Steven jokes, but then feels like a jerk at the implication. Fortunately Anthony takes it well and smirks.

"Yes, I do. For one, I'm not into humiliation, either towards me or my partner."

Steven is aghast. "What? Why would anyone-"

Anthony laughs and puts a finger on Steven's lips. "It's a thing, yes. Glad it isn't for you either. Some people like weird shit, Steven. Let's just go with what feels good for the both of us, okay? We have all the time in the world to push things further."

"Okay, yes. I had no idea I'd like what we did." By the Gods, Steven is uneasy saying getting fucked, he hopes Anthony will be patient with him.

"You'd never played with your ass while jerking off?" Anthony asks, looking surprised.

Steven shakes his head no, probably red as a tomato. He feels so inexperienced and stupid.

"Hey, that's fine," Anthony coos. "Man, way to make me feel like a sex god, here," he adds, grinning.

Which he pretty much is. Steven's heard so many rumors about Anthony being good at it, it's not surprising in the least.

"You like it, that I'm- new?" he asks.

"I like that I'm the first to make you feel like that, yes," Anthony says.

Steven can relate to that. He is annoyed at anyone who got to touch Anthony before him. It's crazy to be jealous of them, but he is, in a way.

"It's obvious that you're a natural," Anthony adds. "We have _awesome_ chemistry, that's for sure, and it's only going to get better as we learn each other. So I don't give a damn what you've done or not, I was just curious. Tell me if I push too much."

"No, no, it's fine," Steven says. "I'm just not used- I was betrothed to Peggy and I was sure we'd get married, so-"

"I envy you, in a way," Anthony says, resting his chin on Steven's chest. He seems pensive, almost melancholic. "Looking back, I started too young."

Not really sure he wants to know, Steven asks nonetheless. "How young?"

Anthony scrunches his nose. "Fourteen? She was in her late twenties, beautiful, and I was convinced I was in love, and that she loved me."

Steven is honestly shocked. Especially when Anthony adds. "Turns out that what she really wanted was to be a princess. I had promised I'd marry her, but Howard just laughed in my face and betrothed me to Pepper, and not long after that I was sent to Casterly Rock. I guess it's one of those times where the old man was right, because she found someone else while the ink for the betrothal papers was still drying."

It makes Steven's gut twist, to think of a young Anthony being betrayed like this. How can someone be so ambitious that they abuse the feelings of someone who's basically still a child?

"She used you," he says, disgusted. "How dare she-"

"Hey, hey, it's fine," Anthony says, tapping Steven's chest. "And it wasn't all bad. I learned a lot."

He must be talking about sex, judging by the sly smile, but what enrages Steven is how he learned about deceit so young, too.

"Enough about the past," Anthony says. "What is done is done, no need to dwell on it. It eventually brought me here with you, didn't it? So all's good."

Steven doesn't resist the impulse to gather Anthony in his arms and squeezes, hard enough that it makes him squeal. He lets go while kissing him on the forehead.

"All is good," he agrees.

"And now, you beautiful distraction, I need to go work," Anthony says. "But first, don't move, I'll be right back."

Anthony leaves the bed and Steven watches him quickly cleaning up at the water basin that was set up in the corner of the room, surely by Jarvis the night before. He comes back with a damp towel and kneels on the bed, and Steven jumps at the first touch to his chest.

"Sorry it's cold," Anthony says.

"It's fine."

He likes how careful Anthony is while cleaning sweat, oil and come off his body, almost reverent about it. Even though it's not meant to arouse, Steven's cock twitches when Anthony wipes his groin. That merits him a raised eyebrow and a sly smile.

"For real?"

"Can't help it," Steven says, sitting up and holding Anthony's face between his hands before kissing him, deep and dirty. "I want you a lot."

"Yeah, you'll definitely be the death of me," Anthony says, kissing him briefly once more. "Hold that thought, okay? I really have to go now."

"Fine," Steven says. "Can I come by tonight?"

"Of course," Anthony says. "Just to be clear, you're always welcome. Every night."

"Good," Steven says, smiling. He hadn't hope for that much, somehow, but it's great news. He intends on accepting the invitation.

After another kiss Anthony gets up, and starts to dress while Steven falls back down on the bed to watch him. It's a shame to see all of that nice skin and muscles disappear, but the results are nice too. Anthony is a very elegant man, and the black surcoat he chose for the day is particularly flattering.

"You can stay in bed, no need to get up," Anthony says. "Do you want me to send for breakfast?"

"No, no, it's fine," Steven says.

He doesn't want to care about what the help will say, but he's in no hurry to feed the rumor mill. The castle is sure to have a field day with their relationship.

Anthony grabs Steve's pants from the ground and brings them over, bending down for a last kiss.

"See you later?" he asks, hopeful.

"My main job is still mostly to guard you... So yes, see you later," Steven replies, taking his pants. He doesn't see his shirt anywhere, it must be lost in the covers.

"Great," Anthony says with a smile before he finally leaves.

Frankly, Steven still feels boneless from their vigorous coupling, and it's tempting to take a nap. On the other hand, he has a feeling that waking up alone in Anthony's big bed would be bitter-sweet, so it's better that he gets going. Barton, Sam and the others must be back with Ward, and there are the Hydra scum to quiz, too.

Better he gets his head in the game and do his job, he'll work on getting Anthony back in bed later.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: there's quite a bit of sex in the second half of this chapter too... no worries, the plot resumes after... ;)

The word that Anthony is back has traveled fast, and Winterfell is getting more visitors every day. That plus the current affairs make for a lot to think about. Anthony is working long hours to take the reins back on how things are managed in the North. Stane controlled a lot, including the kingdom's finances. There's also much do to set up Stane's trial. Steven is busy with security and bringing their men back from the search while Bucky overviews everything that has to do with Hydra.

Days pass quickly, and evenings are now filled with the obligatory entertainment of guests. Anthony host feasts where he makes sure that everyone sees he's in perfect health, as charming as ever and in control in his own home. The socializing is taking a toll that he doesn't let show until he's finally alone, or with his closest friends.

Barton has whisked the King off early tonight, and they are all piled up in Anthony's sitting room, having a last drink before bed. Anthony's has stretched out on a recliner, shin propped on Commander's Rhodes thighs and toes reaching Maester Banner. Sam and Natasha have commandeered chairs, and Bucky is sitting cross-legged on the ground between them. Clint has chosen the nook near the window, and Steven has chosen to take a page out of his best friend's book and sat down on the ground by the recliner, legs stretched out. If leaning back means he's pillowing his head against Anthony's waist, well that's just a bonus.

"Hey Cap," Clint greets. "Managed to shake the ladies off?"

Steven, who'd taken a sip of wine chokes on it and almost spits it everywhere, which makes the gang of traitors laugh.

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Bucky says, grinning.

Since he grew into his body in his late teens, Steven has noticed, sometimes, the interests of others. For years Bucky has bemoaned how blind Steven was to detect when he was hit on, which frankly was true. But it used to be that the advances were at least subtle, so it was forgivable that it passed way over his head. Now though, even if some of the flirting is still discrete, with light touching, smiles and sustained regards thrown his way, it's easier for Steven to decode the intent. Probably because he's playing that same game with Anthony. But he has also received very explicit offers, to his complete dismay. Minutes ago, after Steven finished exchanging info about the evening's guard with Mack, he was cornered by the Lady Raymond. She had plainly asked if he'd like to come to her room, a hand splayed on his chest as if she had every right to feel him up. Her husband had been only feet away, drinking with friends, and Steven had stammered an excuse about work and fled.

"It's not funny," he protests.

"It's hilarious," Bucky says.

"Steven, pal," Sam adds with a grin. "Tell me your secret!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Steven says, sullen. He's with Anthony, and sees absolutely no appeal in anyone else. He's not flirting back at all, ever.

"You're not, it's all on them," Anthony says. He doesn't seem upset at all, only slightly amused. He's started playing with the hair at Steven's nape and it makes him relax a bit. 

"Why the sudden interest, though?" Commander Rhodes asks, something Steven wonders too. "It's Cap open season out there, almost as much as it is on Tony."

"All the throne seekers are hoping Anthony's ordeal made him want to settle down and pop heirs," Clint says. Steven has to force himself to stay cool and impassive because Clint has hit on the nail what has been bothering him. Nobles have been parading their daughters and ladies before Anthony for days, now.

"Here I am, crusher of dreams," Anthony jokes.

"It's pretty clear to anyone with eyes that you only have interest in Cap, that's for sure," Clint adds.

"Damn right," Anthony says, tapping his shoulder.

It's true that even though Anthony's been charming as usual, and has danced with every available woman present, his interactions with them have stayed short, polite and superficial. On the other hand, he's always scanning his surroundings for Steven, if only to exchange a smile or make a face.

"The eye fucking has been out of control," Bucky says and Steven stretches a leg to shove at Bucky's knee in protest.

"Eye fucking? What the hell!"

"Epic eye fucking," Bucky repeats.

Sam laughs. "Steven, you've been watching King Anthony like Redwing follows mice, as if you're just waiting for the good moment to pounce."

"Gods," Steven says, hiding his burning face in his hands. Has he been that obvious?

"Stop teasing him," Anthony chides, and it's sweet that he comes to his defense. Of course he somehow ruins it with the rest of his intervention. "I happen to like the pouncing."

"And that is exactly why Steven is so popular," Natasha says. "He's got the king's complete interest, therefore he must be something else in the sack on top of being gorgeous."

Steven groans and wishes the floor would swallow him whole.

"So getting laid is the secret to get more proposition to get laid?" Sam asks. "That is hugely unfair."

"Get a reputation and results are gua-ran-teed," Anthony says with conviction. "Sorry birdie."

"He's holding himself differently, too," Maester Banner says – a surprise, he's usually very quiet. Steven feels betrayed that he finally takes part in the conversation to poke fun at him.

"Yeah," Clint says. "Less rigid, I'd say."

"Well I'd like to see you remaining tense with the amount of sex those two must be having," Commander Rhodes adds. Steven knows it's playful teasing between friends, but it's still coming from his commanding officer!

"He's more confident in his body," Natasha adds. "Very sexy."

"You bet. And he's mine, and you are making him uncomfortable, so I'm kicking you all out, right now. Whoosh whoosh," Anthony says, getting upright.

He ends up sitting with his legs on each side of Steven, ankles hooked in front of him. The message is pretty clear that everyone needs to go, but he's expected to stay. Honestly, Steven had thought they'd be more discreet about their relationship, not that it would become a subject of discussion and teasing among their friends.

"They kid because they like you," Anthony says, kissing the top of Steven's head. "And because they love to see you blush."

"I knew there was an ulterior motive," Steven replies. He wishes he didn't turn red at the smallest emotion.

"You know, I'm not surprised you're being propositioned. It's that it's a new development that boggles me."

"You did pretty much hit on me as soon as we met, so," Steven says with a smirk. That had thrown him for a hell of a loop, for sure, even though he didn't realize it right when it happened.

"That's because I have functioning eyes!" Anthony exclaims. "Anyway, don't give them attention, and they'll eventually leave you alone."

"Does that tactic work for you?"

Half of the throne seekers, as Clint names them, were here at the tourney, too.

"It's a work in progress."

Steven if of mind that nothing but the announce of a marriage will stop the hopeful (and even then). But thinking about this is just asking to getting annoyed and jealous again, so he grabs Anthony's legs and gets up, lifting him at the same time. The result is that Anthony is now in a piggy back position and easy to transport.

"Do I tell you enough that your strength is awfully sexy?" Anthony asks, as Steven brings him to the bedroom and gets into bed.

"I've heard it once or twice," Steven says. Anthony compliments him all the time, which is nice but also a bit uncomfortable. He's getting better at accepting them, though.

"Come here," Anthony says, grabbing his tunic and pulling him into a kiss. "Gods, I've wanted to do that all day," he murmurs against his lips when they break apart.

Steven hums his approval and kisses him again, making it deep and intent, very clear that he's up for more than sleeping tonight. He's eager for sex every night and most mornings if he catches Anthony before he gets out of bed. Sometimes it's hard and fast, and others they spend hours discovering each other. So far Anthony has been very welcoming of Steve's experimentation, that is for sure.

Speaking of tests and practices, right now Steven wants to blow Anthony, which means focusing on getting his pants undone. He's getting better at voicing his wants and needs, too.

"Can I suck you?"

Anthony laughs. "Yes, you most certainly can. Sounds great to me!"

"I'm taking lessons from the best," Steven says, happy he's dealt with the belt and that he can pull Anthony's pants completely off.

In fact, he strips Anthony naked soon enough, and makes him sit on the edge of the bed as he kneels on the floor. It's the perfect height, and he fits just right in between Anthony's tights. He's got his stiff prick in hand and bowing his head for a taste when Anthony's fingers tangle in his hair.

"You are breathtakingly beautiful," he starts to say, but it ends with a moan as Steven takes him in his mouth.

Since they've started having sex, Steven learned that he enjoys giving oral sex a lot. He was nervous at first, completely inexperienced, but Anthony was very praiseful and appreciative even in his earlier fumbling, which gave him more and more assurance. Steven cannot get enough of all the sounds he can get out of Anthony when he does something just right, how responsive he is to every touch. He also discovered that he can ignore his gag reflex if he's focused enough. Taking Anthony down to the root and staying there is a sure way to have him babbling praise and curses alike.

"Oh fuck, Steven! Yeah, that's... Oh. So good. By the Gods, you are so good at this! You are the best, Gorgeous."

He might be on his knees, but it makes him feel so powerful to please Anthony this much. A lot of the times it's Anthony who is reducing him to a pleading mess, overwhelmed by pleasure. If Steven can make replicate just a fraction of it, he'll consider it a job well done. The blowjob is wet and messy as Anthony seems to prefer, and clearly riling him up pretty fast as he's gripping Steven's hair a bit tighter, hips jerking. Usually Steven keeps his hands on Anthony's hips so he doesn't move too much. He knows Anthony likes the show of strength, but he feels daring tonight and he slides a finger back, behind Anthony's balls. Steven's own opening is so sensitive, so he circles gently but is still surprised at Anthony's sudden reaction. He bucks up and forces his cock down Steve's throat, making him to pull off to cough.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Anthony apologizes, petting his hair.

"S'okay," Steven says. He then boldly touches Anthony's asshole again, who jumps again and groans. It seems self-explanatory, but he asks nonetheless. "Is this good?"

"Gods, yes," Anthony says, caressing the side of Steven's face. His eyes are half lidded and full of lust. "So good, Darling."

Emboldened, Steven takes the tip of his cock in his mouth and sucks hard, continuing his exploration. Anthony's breathing is heavy, and he's squirming in Steve's hold "Please."

It's rare that Anthony begs, and it's immensely satisfying.

"What do you want?" Steven asks once he pulls off again. He circles his finger around, slipping the wetness from his saliva and dares pressing in, just a bit. Maybe Anthony will want it just like this, some light teasing. Could be that he'd enjoy a whole finger, too, that's always good for Steven and he'd love to try it. See if he could find a sweet spot in Anthony that mirrors his own.

"You. Always you."

It's continually thrilling to hear how much Anthony desires him and Steven smiles, fiercely glad of it. He was having fun sucking him, but if Anthony wants to take Steven, he won't complain. It's always so good.

"Okay."

Steven gets up to finally strip of his clothes, and Anthony watches his every movements, eyes burning with lust. He's so beautiful, draped shamelessly on the bed, comfortable in his body and desire. Anthony's cock is full and curved towards his belly, though he's keeping his hands off it.

"That's it Gorgeous, gets those offensive clothes off."

It makes Steven laughs. "Offensive?"

"Yes," Anthony says, grinning back. "You should always be naked."

Shaking his head fondly, Steven goes to fetch the vial oil on the bedside table. "I'd look stupid, standing guard naked with a sword."

"Stupid isn't the word I'd use. And you could hide your modesty with the shield," Anthony teases, scooting up on the bed until he can lie down with his head on the pillow.

He expects Steven to ride him, then, which makes a pang of desire run up his spine. He loves that, how he can set up a rhythm and be on display for Anthony while he takes what he needs.

"How about I keep the naked for you?" Steven counters, dripping oil on his fingers. He should be able to make fast prep for himself.

"That's acceptable," Anthony says.

Steven is about to finger himself when Anthony takes hold of his own thighs and curls up, spreading them and presenting himself. Honestly, it halts everything in Steven's brain for a moment.

"Come on, Love, get those fingers in me already. I want you so bad," he says.

Oh. That's- not what Steven expected and he freezes, blood suddenly pumping twice as hard. He's then hit in the gut with a need so fierce he reels with it. His enthusiasm thankfully wins over shock quickly. He hurries to take place before Anthony, hand slightly shaky as he dares run his oiled fingers down the cleft of his ass, circling the puckered entrance.

"Yeah?" he asks, nervous now. He hopes he'll be able to make it good.

"Yes, come on," Anthony says, rocking towards Steven's touch. "I've been thinking about it for a while. Can't wait to feel you."

"Why didn't you ask?" Steven says between mouthed kisses on the inside of Anthony's thighs. He presses the tip of an index in and is fascinated by the give, and even more by the way Anthony's breath stutters. He's flushed and absolutely gorgeous, all laid out for the taking.

"Didn't want to rush you, and you seemed to be happy with what we've been doing."

"Believe me, I was. I am." Most days Anthony gives him orgasms that leave him boneless, he's sure not complaining. Steven slips his finger all the way in and marvels at the hotness of Anthony inside, how soft it is.

"Good. Fucking you is a gift, it's not like I wasn't enjoying myself too," Anthony says, pushing into Steven's hand. "Oh, Gods, yeah like that," he adds. "Give me another one."

A masochistic part of Steven wants to ask who's done this for Anthony's last, who was lucky enough to fuck him as a prince. He refrains and does as asked, slipping a second finger with the first. Steven also takes his dick back into his mouth, which Anthony often does to him. He knows by experience that it helps to relax for the penetration. Anthony is so tight, squeezing his fingers, and Steven grinds his hard cock down on the bedding, seeking a little friction. He cannot wait to slide in, hopes he'll keep his control and not come too fast. Maybe he should rub off on the bed now, to take the edge off?

"Oh fuck! Your mouth, so good. Yes, yes, that's it! Come on, stretch me, make me ready for your cock."

Anthony is writing, rolling his pelvis to push into Steven's mouth before moving back into his hand, fucking himself on Steven's fingers. He's got both hands buried into Steven's hair, who is so turned on he's getting light-headed with it. Mimicking what he likes being done to himself, he corkscrews his fingers in, then spreads them when sliding out, sucking hard all the while. He pulls off to find the oil, to a whine of protest by Anthony.

"No, no, don't stop!"

"We're just getting started," Steven says with more confidence than he feels, which puts all kinds of exciting scenarios into his head.

Of fucking Anthony again after this round when he's already filled with his relase. About how he could make him come three, maybe four time, if he takes all night to do it. He might be a little too enthusiastic when he pushes in three fingers dripping with oil. Anthony holds his breath in for a shocked couple of seconds before letting go with a wanton moan.

"Oh, yes, Gods. Fuck, your fingers are huge," he says between little pants.

"You take it so well," Steven says, nuzzling Anthony's hard shaft, tonguing his balls. He's not expecting it when Anthony suddenly spasms against him.

"Ah!" Anthony exclaims. "Yes! That's it!"

He'd crooked his fingers without real intent but for sure Steven will try to recreate that reaction. On the next push he does it again and grins when Anthony all but bows off the bed.

"Yeah, yeah, right there!"

If that's what Anthony wants, that's what Steven will gladly give. For long minutes, he relentlessly grazes the sweet spot inside Anthony; not every time because he doesn't want to overwhelm him, but enough to turn him into a babbling mess. To see him keen and writhe, completely at his mercy, makes Steven feel like he's on top of the world. He's doing this, pleasing this man he loves so much that he's almost in tears and begging, and he takes a fierce pride in it.

 

"Please, Baby, please, Gods, come on!"

"Please what?" Steven asks, crooking his finger exactly where he just learned does maximum effect. Surely he can bring him closer to the edge, still.

"Fuck me, please." Anthony is grabbing Steven's forearms, who is now sitting on his haunches as he works Anthony up, relishing the spectacle laid before him. "I'll give you whatever you want. Anything. Please!"

"All I want is you," Steven say, brutally honest.

It's not a line, or part of a script in their lovemaking. It's the pure truth that Steven needs nothing else as long as he has Anthony, in any way he can have him. He's never been so happy, and he has resolved to enjoy every minute, until... until he cannot keep Anthony anymore. At the Liebers Anthony was undoubtedly sincere when he said that if he chose someone without a linage, he'd be faithful. Steven believes that, and that Anthony means for them to work on the long term. But Steven is also convinced that it cannot be, not really. The kingdom is too important, Anthony himself is meant for so many great things. This relationship with a captain in his army is just not sustainable. Anthony will have to marry, and the North needs Stark babies for the future. No matter what, Steven will love and protect Anthony and his family for as long as he lives, even if it's not from right at his side. That's a certainty that he feels right down to his bones. Steven is also determined to not let those bad thoughts bring him down, though, and to make the most of what he's got.

"You've already got me, Love. I'm all yours. Come on! I'm so close, I want to come with you in me. Please, Steven, stop this torture!"

It is said in jest and Steven knows Anthony is only frustrated about not getting what he craves, but the use of the word torture makes Steven change tactics. He keeps his fingers in Anthony's ass, as deep as he can go, but he releases his dick to lean up to kiss him fiercely, deep and forceful.

"Mine," Steven says roughly when he comes up for air. At least for now, and it's good enough.

"Yeah, yeah," Anthony says, biting his lower lip, his hands fleeting on Steven's shoulders and upper arms, before linking behind his neck . His pupils are huge and he looks drunk on pleasure. "All yours. Take me."

 

Steven kisses him again, curving up his fingers in one last time to make Anthony cry out, then he's pulling them out and slicking his cock instead. The perfunctory pull on his dick makes him realize how worked up he is, but surely he can hang on to make this good for Anthony.

"Oh, Gods, yes! Finally!" Anthony is grabbing his hips, trying to hurry things up by pulling at him.

It makes Steven smile as he thinks about how impatient he was too, the first time they did it the other way around. It's true, there's nothing bad about seeing how much Anthony wants this, needs him. He takes a moment to drizzle some oil on Anthony's rim, because he will do this right or not at all.

"Easy," Steven says, positioning his dick to the small opening. He's saying this both to Anthony and to himself, and then he starts pushing in.

He knows that it's normal that Anthony tenses up at first, since Steven's cock is bigger than three fingers, but he continues as gently as he can. It feels so amazingly good to breach the tight inferno of Anthony's body. He can feel his blood pounding in his ears with how incredibly turned on he is. Anthony is making cut off sounds, hands now gripping Steven's upper arms. He's squirming again, as if he can't decide if he wants to go on or get away.

"Fuck, you're huge!"

Steven pulls back a little, tries again, but he's worried he'll hurt him. "Sorry, sorry."

Anthony puts a hand on the middle of Steven's chest, pushes a bit. "Okay, no, this won't work."

It makes Steven's stomach drop. Gods, he wanted this so bad and they are so close. But if Anthony wants to stop that's it. Disappointed but trying not to show it too much, he pulls out - hadn't even passed the rim with the head of his cock yet. There's not time to awkwardly apologize again because Anthony is still pushing on his chest, then his shoulder, sitting up at the same time.

"It's been too long and you're too big. C'mon Baby, get on your back. I need a little assist by gravity here."

Oh. _Oh._ Steven probably never flipped on his back so fast.

When Anthony straddles his waist, all flushed and disheveled but visibly determined to get filled up no matter what, Steven watches him with wide eyes.

"You are going to feel so good," Anthony promises.

"Yeah," Steven agrees, hands closing on Anthony's strong thighs. "You always make me feel great."

Anthony chuckles. "Glad to hear it, Darling. But I meant you, in me," he says, nudging down. "This is a challenge but I know the reward will pay off."

The new position and controlling the pace seems to making things easier. Steven sure is hanging on for the ride as ever so slowly Antony manages to take more of him. He is still slightly worried that Anthony will hurt himself, he's impatient and probably going too fast, but it feels so good that he cannot even find words to protest. Anthony is so hot inside, a clinging pressure that feels great around his cock. There's also that almost indescribable feeling of joy about being as close as he can be to Anthony, deeper and deeper now. He's riled up but there's less urgency to his desire like this, while Anthony sets their rhythm.

"You are amazing," Steven tells Anthony, unable to even bat his eyelashes because he doesn't want to miss a second of this. "So incredibly beautiful."

"Got a pretty spectacular view too," Anthony says, running his fingers down Steven's pectorals and abs. He's finally all the way down, all heat and pressure, and he pauses, breathing deeply.

"Are you okay?" Steven asks, voice strangled with how right this feels but still afraid to hurt him.

"Oh definitely," Antony says, grinning, and then bends down for a kiss. It's wet and lewd, and when Anthony squeezes around him Steven bucks up.

"Ah!" By the Gods, that was great.

"Yeah, that's it," Anthony croons and props himself up on his hands, lower body moving in a slow back and forth. "Feels so good."

"Same." He's got his fingers on Anthony's hips, and finds himself doing a counterpoint by rolling his own.

"Oh, yes, that's fantastic Baby," Anthony says, picking up speed and lengthening the motions. He's gliding all the way up and down his shaft now, smooth and regular. Pleasure is building fast, especially when a few minutes in Anthony pulls at his own hard cock. "Fuck yes. I'm so close!"

"Me, too," Steven says, bending his legs to plant his feet on the bed to put more and more power in his thrusts.

"Oh! Yes, you are perfect! Harder, please."

"Anything you want," Steven says, doing his best to move in the ways that produce the most moans. Anthony is wantonly centered into getting his own pleasure, using Steven's dick and body to get there.

He's spectacular, forceful and graceful at the same time, sweat beading on his skin in a way that makes him glow in the light of the candles set around the room. And right now, in this moment, Anthony is definitely his. Every snap of Steven's hips is a statement: _mine, mine, mine._

"Come for me," Steven demands with little thought, caught in the moment, and he thrills when it tips Anthony over the edge. With a full body shudder Anthony's eyes roll back in his head, and he pulses and clenches around Steven's cock, shouting in his pleasure as he erupts.

The onslaught of sensations pushes Steven on the brink too, so very close to his own reward. When Anthony's rhythm falters - visibly overwhelmed with bliss and racked with aftershocks - Steven takes control by using the grip he has on his lover's hips to move him just like he needs it. It won't take long, he's cresting on the sensation until it snaps, pleasure flooding his being in a spectacular fashion. He must cry out as well, it's so strong, and when the rush abides he goes boneless against the mattress, completely spent. His heart is beating so hard and is so full of love, he's afraid it might burst.

"Wow," Anthony mumbles against his collarbone, heaving too. He's gone limp on top of his chest, resting there as he recovers of his own emotions. "Knew it."

"Knew what?" Steven asks, managing to raise a hand to close it on the back of Anthony's neck, keeping him near.

"That the reward would pay off. That you'd be a natural at this."

It is incredibly flattering and Steven grins at the bed's canopy. "Yeah?"

"Definitely."

He's floating in a delicious haze where everything is good and perfect. Life can probably not get better than this. "I love you," he says. "So much."

In fact, it gets even better when Anthony echoes the sentiment. "Me too, Darling. I love you more than anything."


	21. Chapter 21

As much as Anthony would have preferred something simple and expedient, there is no escaping making Obadiah's trial a big affair. Not with the crime that were committed, against him personally as a king, but also most probably towards his parents too. And especially not since it involves Hydra, which has been a threat for the Seven Kingdoms for decades now.

It took a very short time for a raven to come back from King's Landing, bringing Thor's expression of joy for Anthony's safe return. He also insisted to be a judge on the trial. It is both an honor and a statement as Thor is without a doubt their greatest hero from the war against Hydra. Anthony himself could have sat as a judge since the crime was committed in the North, but since he's the wronged party too he took delegated Pepper. Everyone knows she's loyal to him, but she's also recognized for her fairness. Since she wasn't involved in the search and rescue party – though Anthony heard she sent many men from Riverrun to follow leads on her own – she will be able to listen to the testimonies without accusations of her mind be already made. Or less accusation that if it had been Clint or Natasha. That the third judge immediately accepted Anthony's invitation too came as a pleasant surprise, as King Nick Fury rarely leaves Dorne. The whispers says that Fury has a network of spies and operatives so extensive that he everything. His reputation is a definite asset on the trial.

It takes close to two weeks for the judges to arrive in Winterfell and the whole circus to start. During that time Barnes, Clint and Lady Natasha have worked hard to have Dain talk and find as much proof as they can. There is, frankly, very little concrete evidence. More than one night Anthony spent hours awake, fantasizing about going down in the dungeon to confront Ward. Or to Obie's apartments and see if he could make him talk. Villains like to gloat, don't they? Unfortunately his nemesis are cunning and might just get in his head instead. As far as he knows it's Barnes who has had the most success with their prisoners, though he focused on the Dain and the others, not Ward or Stane.

Everywhere Anthony goes, Steven is close, almost competing with his shadow some days. There were dozens of men on the attack on the convoy when he got kidnapped. Even if lots died that day, most escaped and only seven actual Hydra soldiers are in Winterfell's cells. Anthony's friends are worried that the trial, that brings a lot of onlookers, might be the perfect setting for Hydra agents to slip in and attempt on his life. Or on the lives of the prisoners on trial, so they don't talk. There are guards everywhere, and Steven looms in the periphery, looking threatening. If at first Anthony found it funny and endearing, it gets annoying when it's all day long. It's not like Anthony can't take care of himself, he proved that when they tried to take him the first time and with his almost escape.

"Your Majesty, maybe you should not stay on the balcony too long," Steven is saying right now.

"What, maybe Hydra made the ground slippery and I could tip over and fall in the courtyard?" Okay, so Anthony is lacking sleep and might be getting testy.

"No," Steven says carefully. "But it takes only one arrow-"

Anthony pinches the bridge of his nose and expels his breath. "Captain, there are so many guards on duty, I am pretty sure that even if there was someone crazy enough to attempt on my life in broad daylight like this, they wouldn't have time to draw a bow before being clobbered"

"But-"

Turning to Steven, who has his brow furrowed in visible frustration, Anthony sighs and puts a hand on his forearm. "It's okay Steven. I am perfectly safe."

The tightness in Steven at the touch is probably not noticeable for most, but it is to Anthony. It's inevitable whenever Anthony shows even the slight bit of familiarity in public, and right now he made the double offense of his first name and a physical contact.

"We need to be vigilant, my king," he replies, posture at attention like the perfect soldier he is, and Antony lets his hand drop.

He doesn't like that they have to perform in public. Hates even more that despite that the whole castle knows that they sleep together, he's supposed to pretend that their relationship isn't the best thing that ever happened to him. Steven lets people talk, still blushing sometimes, but is always proper, never risks a touch. Even the heated looks have almost disappeared since he got teased about the eye fucking. It's a blessing that Steven more than makes up for it when they are alone, becoming very handsy, but it's frustrating nonetheless.

"I know, Captain."

"They are waiting for you in the Great Hall, Your Majesty."

Anthony's stomach lurches. By the Gods, as much as he wants this whole mess over with, he doesn't feel ready either. "Now?"

"Yes." At least Steven's voice is soft, and even if he doesn't let much sentiment pass on his face, his eyes are kind. He knows Anthony has been dreading this.

"Let's go, then."

They set the Great Hall in a way that has the judges sitting at one head of the room where the king generally hold court. The throne is replaced by a table where Anthony sits in the middle with Thor on his left, and they are book ended by Pepper on his side and Fury on Thor's. They'll bring the accused out one by one, and the second half of the Great Hall holds the onlookers, hungry for gossip and tales of betrayal. All around the room the King's Guard is vigilant, while Steven and Rhodes took position right behind him and Thor, regal in their parade armors. Speaking of protocol, Steven has his non-regulation shield, but absolutely no one dares to comment on it. It has been decided that Phil Coulson, Clint's friend, will asks the basic questions and moves things along throughout the trial. Of course the judges and himself can cut in at all times.

The soldiers that serve Hydra are the firsts to come in the room one at a time, and their testimonies are expedient. Anthony has to give them credit for standing up to their fucked up ideals. For the seven of them, it's a variation of:

Who do you work for? Hydra.

Who do you respond to in Winterfell? I was informed by messages, I do not know who sent them.

Is Counselor Stane Hydra too? I don't know, I never spoke to him.

Were you aware of a conspiracy to kidnap King Anthony? Yes, he is an enemy of Hydra.

Anything to add? Hail Hydra!

 

Each and every time Thor hits his fist on the massive oak table enough to make the it creak and declares them a disgrace. Since there isn't even a shadow of a doubt on their culpability with their confessions, the three judges systematically sentence them to die by hanging at the end of the trial. In return, the men smile, as if proud of themselves. It was disheartening to see how this scum had lived among them for years undetected.

Obadiah's assistant Killian is next, and also totally uncooperative. He admits guilt about being Hydra, but refuses to incriminate Stane. He says he received his instructions by crows and relayed them to the soldiers. Asked about the counselor's involvement, he shuts his mouth and stays silent.

"I demand you answer the question!" Thor shouts, visibly getting frustrated.

"I refuse."

Fury puts his elbows on the table, chin on his stapled hands. "You are aware that there are many ways to have someone talk, aren't you Killian?"

Anthony knows that Lady Natasha worked for him several years, and he spots her, at the edge of the first row. By the look on her face, she would love to give Killian some incentive. Killian visibly swallows, but keeps staring at a spot over their heads without saying a sound.

"No torture," Pepper says firmly. There is what sounds like a disappointed murmur in the room and Anthony resists the need to fidget. Gods, people are so bloodthirsty.

"Agreed." There's a limit to the spectacle Anthony is ready to provide. "Judges, I ask you for your verdict on this man's own actions."

"Guilty," is said three times, as expected, and Killian is sentenced for execution.

Dain's testimony is more interesting, but he too was mostly left in the dark about how the whole organization is built. For this one Bucky takes position close to the judge's table, behind them and leaning on a pillar. He has his hair down and is radiating danger in a way that makes even Anthony uncomfortable. It's no wonder that Dain is constantly throwing him terrified glances.

"Eyes on me," Coulson is saying. "Are you working for Hydra?"

"Yes?" By the Gods, the man looks ready to piss himself and is a far cry from the arrogance of his buddies.

"Who gave the orders?"

"They came by crows, a special group with a black metal band on their leg. I was to give them to Killian. The replies came from him, too."

Coulson nods, and as for every witness he asks, "What about Counselor Stane?"

"I never-" Bucky must have moved because Dain's eyes jump to him, then back, looking a little paler. "I never spoke to him directly. I always went through Killian. But I assumed Counselor Stane was the one behind the messages since Killian works for him."

It's logical, but an assumption isn't solid evidence, which Coulson hints at with his next question. "But you are not sure?

"No."

"What about the writing on the messages?" Fury asks.

"I don't read them," Dain starts to say, but there's laughter in the room when Fury's eyebrows shoot up. "Hum. Maybe. It's possible that he wrote them, but I wouldn't know."

Fury sits back in his chair. "Convenient."

Anthony is getting more and more frustrated. He knows in his heart that Obadiah is guilty, but at the moment they have no real proof.

Dain shrugs. "It was always the same paper, the same wax for the seal, stamped with a plain circle with no crest, the same blue ink-"

"The what?" Anthony interrupts. Dain sure just commandeered all of his attention.

"The messages; they were always the same," Dain repeats.

"Yes, I got that. No, you mentioned blue ink. Cobalt blue like they use for the illuminations?"

"No. A very dark blue, almost black," Dain says.

Anthony knows that Obadiah uses blue ink for personal correspondence. The frankly pretty shine of midnight blue had caught Anthony's eyes on a to do list he was given, when he arrived in Winterfell. At the time he'd been grateful being told what was expected of him. It hadn't lasted for long, though, because everything on said list was either tedious or a colossal waste of time or brainpower. So he'd taken satisfaction in crossing item with his own quill, scratching out the blue words with his own bold black ink. He'd even teased Obie about it, saying he was hypocritical in requesting for Anthony to be more traditional all day long when he insisted to make his correspondence pretty. Obadiah had answered that a man might as well indulge in a few luxuries if he could. The whole exchange had all but fled from Anthony's head after that, deemed as unimportant as the list itself. It sure ain't now. He knows what has to be done and stands up.

"I have to ask for a pause, but it won't be long." The crowd murmurs, and his judges look at him with curiosity. "Guards, take Dain in the guard room for now, we'll call for him later. Lady Natasha, please approach," Anthony calls out, and she comes over.

"What can I do for you, King Anthony?" she asks.

"When I returned, you searched Counselor's Stane's study, yes?"

She nods. "Thoroughly, Your Majesty."

"And I don't doubt it. Counselor Stane has an oak secretary, for his correspondence doesn't he?" Anthony can visualize it on the wall near the small office's window.

"Yes. We went through the documents, and there was nothing related to Hydra or your misfortune." Nat looks annoyed about it, too. Anthony knows she had searched it with Jarvis in the first place, and nothing had came up. He cannot believe he didn't think to follow up on it.

"Did you look for hidden compartments?"

He receives an aggrieved _'what do you think?'_ aggravated face for that question. "We sure did. Found two of them where one held old letters from the counselor's late wife and the other a few gems."

Anthony is getting excited, and he is conscious it's a gamble but he's pretty sure he's found their big break. It's been driving everyone crazy that there is not a single shred of evidence for something so big. It's impossible that it's only in Obadiah's head, and he didn't have the occasion to destroy anything since he got imprisoned. The study - a room acting as antechamber between the main corridor and his bedroom - was kept off limits. It's in fact where Anthony's soldiers stand guard, because he didn't want them to crowd the too narrow hallway.

"No one touched the desk since?" Anthony asks.

"No Your Majesty, as it's in the restricted rooms where the Counselor has been held since your return."

"Take a few guards and please bring back both the desk and Stane."

She must sense his excitement because Natasha gives him a little smile as she bows. "Yes Your Majesty. At once."

A steward brings them cups of wine and a few snacks as they wait, but the tension in the Hall is high. Anthony is trying to appear more confident than he is, and Pepper grabs his hand under the table when he starts to fidget. It would be great to seek reassurance from Steven, but when Anthony turns to look, the captain is busy doing a fantastic impression of a statue. Probably just as ready as Anthony is for Stane to get his comeuppance.

When Natasha and the guards come back, a pair is bracketing Obadiah while the others deposit the heavy desk between the judges' table and the accused. It's been weeks where he should have wrapped his head about the whole thing, but Anthony is overwhelmed by the sick feeling of betrayal that comes from seeing Obie again. As for the man himself, he stands tall and proud, shoulders held back in confidence.

He even acknowledges them as if this a social event. "Lady Potts, Anthony, King Odinson," he makes a small pause that conveys his surprise before continuing, "King Fury. I am happy to see you all and confident that we'll straighten this misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding my ass," Anthony says, annoyed. Gods.

Obadiah sighs as he looks at him with pity. "Oh, Anthony. I had hoped you'd come back to your senses after your terrible ordeal."

"Respect your king, Counselor," Thor cuts in while Anthony hides a finch. "Are you saying that you are innocent of what you are accused of?"

"Which is?" Obadiah has the galls to ask.

"Conspiring to take control of Winterfell, arranging and facilitating the kidnapping of your king, and connivance with Hydra," Coulson recites.

With a little wave, Obadiah dismisses the words. "Nonsense."

Anthony gets up and walks around the judge's table, standing near the desk that he caresses with the back of his fingers. Obadiah doesn't even follow the gesture, just looks at him back.

"What I am wondering," Anthony says, opening the drawer on the right side of the desk. He takes out a few vials of ink as he talks, examining them one by one. "-is if you really believe the Hydra crap, or if you just associated with them to get what you want."

"Clearly you are delusional," Obadiah says, shaking his head. He's not denying anything, though.

As Anthony thought, there is a vial of dark blue ink. "I told you I liked the blue ink, didn't I?" he asks holding it up. A murmurs go through the crowd and Coulson comes and takes the ink from him.

"Then you should get some," Obadiah says. "I'm not the only person using it in Winterfell."

"Maybe not," Anthony agrees. He turns his attention to the desk. "Was this a gift from my father?"

"Yes. Years ago."

"Beautiful craftsmanship," Anthony says. "He always loved that carpenter. Did you know he owned a desk exactly like this one?"

It wasn't in Howard's study , but in his mother's personal room, adjacent to their bedroom. Obadiah and Howard had been close, but probably not enough for him to visit his mom's room. The idea is disturbing and Anthony does his best to banish it immediately. It's the first time Obadiah has heard of it by the brief look of surprise that crosses his face.

"I did not." 

"My mom used it every day, always a letter to write, and if I had been good, I could stay with her in the room. One day, I must have been five years old, she told me it was a special desk, with secret compartments. She showed me this one."

Anthony finds the little release point by touch and the side paneling of the desk shifts, enough to reveal space that is holding several letters, bound with a ribbon. Nat did say he had old letter from his first wife. Anthony liked Lady Stane when he was growing up, but she'd died years ago, not long after he'd been send off as a ward. He doesn't want to cheapen the good memories he has of her, So Anthony puts the letters back in the hole and closes it with a click. 

"I am sure it was a nice bonding moment with your mother, but why should I care?"

"I found the second compartment the same day," Anthony continues. This time he has to pull on a handle while he pushes the side of a drawer. The compartments is a lot smaller, but contains a few gems, as Anthony expected after hearing Natasha.

"You always were a precocious child," Obadiah allows. "But again I don't see why you are making a spectacle with this story."

Anthony grins. Obadiah knows where he's going with this, judging by the minute shifting in his expression and the tightening of his jaw.

"I think you do. See, my Mom said that there was only two hidden compartments in her desk. That's what the carpenter had told Dad. But I knew that there had to be at least one more. So I wasted hours poking and prodding the damn thing. In fact I spent years looking for it." He was frankly completely obsessed. If he was tolerated in his mother's room as a young child, his father started to be annoyed when Anthony turned eight and would spend his time there. Howard insisted that he should be more of a man, take more fighting lessons instead of hiding in his mother's skirts. "And, at last, I found it."

The hall is completely silent, watching his every movement. It's a complicated sequence, that requires opening various drawers a certain way, and pushing on a carved flower in the front of the desk. Like Anthony hoped it would, there is a soft 'snick' and the top paneling comes loose, with a comical 'ohhhhh' from the onlookers. Anthony is observing Obadiah, though, who squares his shoulders and still defiantly looks at him.

Coulson is by Anthony's side in a moment, opening the secret enclosure on his signal. It's a relief when the space is filled with papers, including the telltale little rolls that crows carry.

"It's written in code, Your Majesty," Coulson says.

Dammit. He tries not to show his impatience though. "It was to be expected," he says instead. "What's the color of the ink?"

"Some documents are written in black, mostly the rolls, but there are others written in blue, Your Majesty."

"Makes sense. I have a document I received from Counselor Stane months ago, in blue ink, and I want them compared."

Visibly Stane is feeling cornered. "I told you that I'm not the only one using this ink in Winterfell. And I've never seen those papers before."

"Really? You're going with that?" Anthony exclaims. It's his own fucking desk! "We will decode those, I am sure they are plenty interesting. And of course compare the notes' calligraphy with yours and... who are you trying to accuse here, Killian? We'll check that too."

It's a flimsy defense at best, obviously this is correspondence from Obadiah himself and the judges won't fall for the lie. Coulson, still going through the papers, makes a little sound, which is an uncharacteristic show of emotion intriguing enough to make him enquire.

"What is it?"

"This is interesting," Coulson says, holding up a parchment that is half in writing, and sports a little drawing of a skull and tentacles in the corner. In itself it's great, but at second glance it's even better: the text isn't in code and is in fact a list. One Anthony dictated himself and he recognizes von Strucker's handwriting. There they go. A direct link from his kidnappers to Stane's literal desk, with a bonus Hydra doodle. Anthony has moment where he appreciates the late kid's obnoxious arrogance.

"That is, indeed, very interesting!"

"I demand a combat to prove my innocence," Obadiah tries as a last ditch effort.

It's ridiculous, as those papers will undoubtedly be Stane's downfall; his innocence has already vanished. But Anthony cannot deny that letting out a little steam and let a fight settle this whole cluster fuck would be satisfying. In fact, he could fight as Iron Man, and cut Stane or whoever he chooses to ribbons. But that would probably lead to the discovery of his secret of being Iron Man, and Anthony isn't ready for that. Maybe it's what Obadiah wants, in fact. So even if it's tempting, he won't play his game.

"I think there is enough material to examine and eventually take a decision?" Anthony asks the judges as he turns towards their table.

Pepper is nodding, Fury leaning forward and visibly eager to check the papers himself but Anthony is completely surprised when Steven speaks up.

"Let me be your Champion, Your Majesty. Let the Gods help me prove he's guilty."

Steven has been itching to hit someone for weeks in relation to his kidnapping and how his treatment in Icemark. Anthony is totally aware of it, but a combat to the death is a little extreme. He's about to refuse even knowing that Steven will sulk when Thor speaks up.

"It agrees with me," Thor says with conviction. Which of course it does.

Once that is said, a combat is inevitable and they all know it.

"Who will be your Champion, Counselor?" Coulson asks right after. Anthony quickly learned that the man should have 'efficient' as a middle name.

Obadiah doesn't waste time pretending to think about it. "Grant Ward, assuming he's still close by."

Anthony scoffs. "You realize that associating with my actual jailer does not look good for you?"

"Only the result counts," Obadiah says with a shrug.

Ward _is_ a skilled warrior, even if he fights dirty.

"Fair enough," Anthony has to admit. "It's late, we-"

"We should hold the combat tonight, my king," Steven says. Visibly not only giving him a chance to fight, but making it be _Ward_ himself is turning Steven impatient. Anthony holds in a sigh and walks to the judge's table for advice, as Steven does the same.

"Wouldn't tomorrow be better?" Anthony asks, looking at Fury whom he thinks will back him up.

The answer isn't what he hoped. "I think that this farce has to end, and the sooner the better," Fury says.

"Agreed," Thor says.

Anthony would appreciate if Steven stopped looking so pleased that no one is listening to him.

"Okay, fine."

"We'll be ready in one hour, in the courtyard," Coulson says. When they all nod, he announces it to the crowd, and leaves with the stack of papers taken from Obadiah's desk,

"See you then," Anthony tells Obadiah.

"I'm sure the Gods will guide Ward into beating your new pet," Obie says with a mean smile, before he is taken away by his guards under the murmurs of the attendance.

Ah that's his play. Getting Steven emotional, sufficiently for him to make a mistake. Surely Obadiah is aware that Ward is a champion at that game and knows Steven enough to predict he might fall for it. When Anthony turns to Steve, it's to find out he has stiffened and is red as a tomato.

"You, with me," he orders, leaving the Great Hall until he can drag Steven in the study.

It's only when they are alone that Anthony rounds on him. "Can you keep a cool head about this?"

"Yes." Definite. Forceful.

"Ward will goad you, Steven."

"I won't fall for it this time," Steven declares. He looks pretty sure of himself, too.

"I could ask-"

"No!" Steven says, reaching to hold his arm. "Let me do this, please." By the Gods, he's making tragic eyes, and that's not playing fair.

"Fine," Antony relents. "I wish I had an armor for you." Steven is too broad in the shoulders, neither his nor Rhodey's would fit. This ceremonial armor is just for show and Anthony doesn't like it. "If I had a week-"

"We don't need a week," Steven says, before circling Anthony's waist to pull him close. "Or a full armor, definitely not against Ward who'll be mobile. I will be fine with the shield, Antony."

"I am sure you will," he agrees, resting his forehead on Steven's chest. Way less comforting than usual on the metal of the parade armor, but at last Steven is circling him with his arms, and kissing the top of his head. "At least take one of my swords? And I mean the good ones?"

"I'd win-"

 

"I know you would," Anthony interrupts. "But I think it would be poetic justice if Ward lost a combat against someone yielding the very sword he forced me to do."

"Yes. Okay. The blade from Icemark it is, then."

"Be careful, Steven, he's sneaky." Anthony would hate for Steven to be hurt, even a little.

"I will be."


	22. Chapter 22

Anthony thought that the Great Hall was full for the trial, but it's nothing compared to how crowded is the courtyard. People are shoulder to shoulder and then some on the walkways and around the determined space for the fight. For a guy who spent over two weeks in a dank cell, Ward looks in good shape when he's brought in to act as Stane's champion. He's lightly armored with a scale and chain mail, the rest of his outfit made of black leather. As Steven predicted, he's going for speed and agility. He strolls in with confidence, smirk firmly in place even though his hands are still bound in front of his body.

Steven is outfitted with similar gear when he enters the fighting ring, but the two men are as contrasted as can be, embodying light and dark. The leather under Steven's mail is blue, and the almost setting sun is making his blond hair shine like fire. Anthony has protested that he should wear a helmet for protection, but it's a hindrance for the field of vision so his sensible suggestion was ignored. With his shield on his arm and the reddish blade in hand, that seems to blaze too, Steven looks fierce and determined. Gone is his sweet lover, this is a warrior and he's on a mission. He's so focused, he doesn't spare the onlooker - or even Anthony - a glance, eyes on Ward at all time.

Anthony is brought out of his musing by Bruce, who has finished saying whatever has to be said in those circumstances, and gives the signal for the fight to start. It is very clear from the get go that Steven doesn't want to draw this out. He's also giving Ward a chance by not chopping him to pieces with the very sharp edge of his sword.

"I'm pretty sure that is mine," Ward says as he avoids a hit, swiftly turning on himself before he hits back, but touches the shield.

If Ward expected a rise out of Steven for that, he doesn't get it. So of course he says something worse.

"You should have seen how prettily Stark cried when he agreed doing it for me."

Steven reacts, but by shoving Ward away from him so hard he ends up on his ass. The an excited hum goes through the crowd, but Steven doesn't push it, and even steps backwards.

"Up," he orders.

Slowly, Ward gets back on his feet. He might act mostly nonchalant, but Anthony recognizes the look of a man searching for a solution and not seeing much possibilities.

"What, you won't hit a man on the ground? Too proud? You know I would have killed Loverboy if it wasn't for your freak of a friend possessing his bird and getting in my way."

Ah, shit. Anthony had hoped that they could get to the end of this without outing Wilson as a warg. It was vague, but people will gossip, that's for sure, and Sam often hangs out with Steven with Redwing perched on his shoulder. The association will not be hard to do. 

"You don't need your tongue to fight," Steven finally says, using his shield to hit Ward on a shoulder which makes him drop his own protective gear.

"Funny you'd say that," Ward says, bounding away from a slash of Steven's sword that would have taken at least an arm. "We used to muzzle Barnes like a vicious bitch when he killed for Hydra. It's true that it didn't make him any less good."

"Enough," Steven hisses between clenched teeth. "Use your last breath to repent, before you face the Gods!"

From that moment forwards, Steven lights up with righteous anger. He's an unstoppable force of quick parry and hits from both the shield and his sword. He is terrifyingly beautiful, like the drawings of the avenging angels of old times. Just as Ward tries a desperate move to lunge for Steven's throat with a dagger he took out of a boot, he meets the pointy end of Steven's blade, right in the middle of the chest. And this time, Steven isn't backing down. Ward has a look of stunned surprised on his face as Steven easily pushes the sword through the mail, then skin and bones like a hot knife through butter. He keeps going even when he's pierced Ward through and through, inexorable. Anthony would have sworn that there was not an ounce of cruelty in the whole of Steven's body, but there is a vicious satisfaction etched on his face as he looks Ward right in the eyes as he kills him. Blood bubbles out of Ward's mouth and he goes limp, falling to the ground. The crowd cheers for Steven, more than one voice crying out that the Gods have spoken and only then Anthony realizes that Obadiah just lost his last chance. The man, standing between his guards, looks impressively impassive under the circumstances.

Anthony's attention is brought back to Steven, whom after getting his weapon back is walking purposely in his direction. He's confused about what is going on until Steven kneels in front of him, hands on the pommel of his sword and head bowed.

"I am glad the Gods allowed me to contribute to the justice you deserve, my king," he says, voice strong and loud. The traditional words are utterly sincere. Anthony is surprised when Steven continues, "I swear on everything that is Holy that I'll devote my entire life to protect yours, in hope to remain your Champion."

It's totally unexpected and fills Anthony with fierce love and pride for this man. He puts a hand on Steven's shoulder in acknowledgement.

"I could not dream of a better Champion than you, Captain Rogers. I am honored by your service and loyalty."

There are applauds, and Anthony hopes for a more familiar demonstration of complicity when Steven gets back to his feet and finally meet his eyes. Maybe not as far as a kiss but at least a smile, but he's only met with Steven's practiced professionalism.

Anthony would love to retreat to his apartment and break Steve's bland facade to get to the fire below, but the trial isn't over yet.

"Obadiah Stane, you have been found guilty by the Gods," Bruce intones. "As a result you are sentenced to death by beheading."

The proclamation unexpectedly causes Obadiah to smile. "If a head is cut off, two more shall take its place," he says, which frankly makes what has to come next easier for Anthony.

**

Unfortunately, the executions of everyone who received death sentence through the day takes way too long. It starts by the hanging of the Hydra moles, which is a horror in itself. Anthony never enjoyed assisting to them and even less now that he has to cut the cord that sends nine men swinging. But he didn't know those people at all, and it's somewhat easy to rationalize it as a thing that has to be done. They all admitted guilt, after ll, and apart from Dain, they seemed to welcome it. For Obadiah, it's a lot more personal and by consequence unsettling.

It's now time, and Anthony feels the weight of being looked at by everyone in the courtyard, either from around the dais or along the footbridges higher up. His friends impatient to see justice applied, but also the onlookers who are salivating at the drama. It makes Anthony nauseous that this complicated shit storm is entertainment for some people.

Eager for everything thing to be over and to start on forgetting the whole mess -possibly by getting very very drunk - Anthony takes position beside Obadiah, who might be kneeling but is not broken. He repeats Hydra's tagline and his spiteful words are still vibrating in the air when Anthony brings his sword up and slashes down, on his neck. He's heard horror stories about executioners missing their first tries and having to hack twice, but he knows that won't be the case today. His blade cuts too well for flesh and bones to be a challenge, and the hit to Obadiah's neck barely causes a resistance. It takes a fraction of a second and Obie's head is rolling, blood spraying crimson. By reflex Anthony steps back to avoid getting blood on his clothes. Still, he can't stop looking at what he's done with a sense of fascinated detachment: it shouldn't be so easy to take a life. The head ends up face up, and Anthony is certain that Obie would be furious to know he looks kind of ridiculous in death, eyes wide open and mouth gaping.

"Come on, let's go."

Anthony frowns and sees Rhodey by his side, who has grabbed his elbow and is pulling him towards the stairs. It's like reality slams back in focus, making Anthony leave the weird contemplative mood he got lost into for a moment. Sound comes back, people cheering and crying out about justice being done. The blade of his sword has little blood on it, and he quickly pushes it Rhodey's hands. He'll know what to do with it.

"Got it," Rhodes says.

Steven is right there at his side as soon as Anthony steps down the dais, massive and dependable. All that Anthony wants right this moment is to lean on him. He needs to soak in the comfort of touching him and being held and not care about anything else. But it's unadvisable because they are in the middle of the courtyard, all eyes on him, and Anthony cannot show weakness right now. And even if he didn't mind that, Steven avoids all physical contact with him when there is anyone else than their friends around. Truthfully it's something that is harder and harder to deal with for Anthony, and painful right about now. Just a hand on his back or arm would mean the world.

"I'm just gonna-" Anthony gestures towards the keep, means to convey that he'll go in his apartments.

"Of course. See you later," Rhodey says.

From there Anthony follows Clint, who is walking with purpose and opening a trail through the people between him and escape. He's surrounded with the ones who matter, flanked by Barnes and Wilson and knowing without having to turn around that Steven has his back. He might not touch him, but he's present, always, and it counts for a lot. Natasha is there, too, Anthony sees her leaning to talk in Thor's ear, whom then claps in his hands and brings everyone's attention on himself.

"Justice was served!" he exclaims, making the attendants cheer. It also distracts them from Anthony as Thor does an impromptu speech on the importance of loyalty and the evil that is Hydra. It allows Anthony to leave with no one trying to talk or, the Gods forbid, congratulate him. They walk at a brisk pace in the corridors and wordlessly all of his escort save Steven stays outside his apartments when they reach their destination.

"Thanks guys," Anthony says.

"It's finally done, man," Clint replies, squeezing his arm.

He wishes it was that simple, but there are several Hydra sympathizers still active in the Seven Kingdoms, he's convinced of that. But at least Obie, Ward and the lot based in Winterfell are dealt with, and that is something.

"Yeah, it is. I'll see you guys later. Tomorrow."

There will be an official dinner tomorrow before Thor leaves for King's Landing. Having him twice in Winterfell in so short a time to support Anthony is a very strong message that they are close allies. It means of course that there will be offers for new or better alliances all day, and Anthony expects at least five marriage being suggested as the best thing ever. He has no intention of even considering any of those proposals, and he is convinced that _everyone_ knows that, including those will make the demands. But they'll do it anyway, because that is expected. The idea that Anthony will have to smile, be courteous, stay kind to the poor girls shoved at him and polite to their fathers or guardians is incredibly daunting. He cannot do this anymore, lightly flirt and pretend he's not already taken when all he wants is to be with Steven, and only Steven.

Speaking of the man, Steven has closed the door behind them. At last - now that they are alone, and it stings a little - he approaches Anthony, arms opened to take him in an embrace. There is so much love and compassion on his face, in his beautiful blue eyes, that it hurts in Anthony's chest how strongly he loves him. It's something Anthony doesn't wish to hide anymore, that he doesn't want to keep for just them and their friends, not when it's so important. Instead of walking into Steven's arms, he takes a couple of steps back, a hand up to stop him. He won't be able to think and do what has to be done if they are touching.

"Anthony?" Steven asks, confused and visibly worried as he lowers his arms.

"I can't continue like this," Anthony says, hands going to his mouth, then his hair, before gesturing between them. "Us."

Immediately Steven's face falls and he looks devastated, taking a step back himself as if he got hit. Oh, by the Gods, Anthony didn't realize how that sounded, and he hates that he unwillingly hurt Steven by this poor word choice. Steven goes so far as to swallows bravely, eyes glinting with tears, and wearing the expression of someone who knew this was coming which is heartbreaking.

"I understand -" Steven's voice is light, shaky.

"No, no, Love," Anthony immediately interrupts, closing the distance between them to take one of Steven's hands between his own. What was he thinking, this is a disaster. He should have known better than try to have a serious conversation when he's still all turned around from the trial and execution. He brings Steven's hand to his mouth and kisses it reverently before looking at Steven in the eyes. The poor darling seems so lost right now. "You did not understand right. I mean… I want the whole Seven Kingdoms, hell, all the known lands in the world to know about you. For everyone to know that if they want to get to me, they have to go through you first."

Steven frowns, still looking shook but now mostly confused. "Well of course. No one will hurt you ever again."

It's said as if it's a new law, no discussion needed, and it's at the same time adorable and hot.

"True, with you by my side I'll be safe. But what I want everyone to know, too, is that I love you, and no others." The hurt has completely left Steven's face, replaced by a wide-eyed expression. It's as if he finally sees where this conversation is going but cannot quite believe it. Anthony is totally unprepared for this, he doesn't even have a ring, nothing, but he has to ask, nonetheless. He kisses Steven's hand again before asking the most important question of all. "Steven, light of my life, would you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"

Steve's lips form an astonished 'o' of surprise. "Marry?"

Anthony nods. "Yes. Help me rule the North, and, more than that, be my other half. Me and you, now and always."

He doesn't care if he causes another scandal. There have been gay unions in recent years, sometimes, but very rarely nobles, and certainly never royalty. Anthony doesn't give a shit. He has found the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and it happens to be a man. Who doesn't have blue blood, but who even cares at this point? Winterfell, the North, the Seven Kingdoms and whoever else - including the Gods - will have to deal with it.

Steven's fingers have intertwined with his and he's squeezing quite hard, eyes still wide. "Me? You'd marry me?"

Clearly Steven doesn't realize the catch he is. "I'd be the luckiest man alive. If you ever accept!"

"But, but-" he gulps, stares some more. "You are the _king_. What about heirs?"

Anthony thought Steven had caught on that he cares about the people he rules, but he isn't interested in the actual title. Especially not who'll sit on the throne after him, as long as they'd do a good job. Heck, he'd give up the crown right now if he thought he could get away with it.

"We'll prepare Bucky and Nat's first born," Anthony suggest with a small smile. That could - and probably will be - a cunning and determined kid. "Or Rhodey's, if he ever gets off his ass and get a wife. Hell, we could implement a vote, like in the Night's Watch, and let the North choose the next King."

"You're crazy," Steven says with wonder.

"Crazy about you, yes," Anthony reaffirms. He's getting more and more nervous. What if Steven refuses because of some misplaced idea of what is proper or not? What if he enjoys them being a secret, but has no interest in publicly committing? And then there is the fact that Steven doesn't care one bit about power and titles, he only ever asked to be a soldier. Anthony would not blame him the least for not wanting to step in the spotlight and take on the responsibilities that would come with this marriage. And he admits that this proposal is very sudden, no wonder Steven is shocked. "I know it's a lot. I'm a lot. Think about it? The offer's open-"

He's interrupted by a fervent kiss. "Yes!" Steven exclaims before kissing him again, making Anthony's heart do a happy triple flip. "Of course I'll marry you! A thousand times yes. You are completely insane, but yes. Nothing would make me happier."

There is color high on Steven's cheeks, his eyes are so bright and elated, and his smile blinding. Anthony knows he's grinning like a madman right back.

"Awesome." It lacks repartee and romanticism, but that's just how gone Anthony is.

"Are you sure?" Steven asks, searching his face intently.

"Certain. I love you Steven." Anthony has never been more convinced of anything.

Steven's smile is fond and loving in return. He caresses the side of his face with reverent fingers. "And I love you too. So much."

The kiss that follows is soft and tender, like a butterfly. But the second is firmer, and then wetter, hotter. By the tenth Anthony is trying to climb Steven like a tree. He hates chain mail, it's slippery. Steven laugh and effortlessly pick him up, Anthony's legs around his waist as he walks towards the bedchamber. Anthony might start believing in the Gods if he's to have this for the rest of his life.

"Okay, so, I was thinking..." It just crossed his mind this very moment, but why not. It's a fantastic idea. "It would be totally unreasonable to have Thor come _back_ to Winterfell a third time in a couple of months, so why don't we get married tomorrow? We already have the guests and a feast ready, it would be very efficient and my Master of Coins will love me."

Steven knee walks on the bed and lays him down, grinning, and hovering above him. "Not more than I love you. You are totally insane."

Anthony winks. "Yeah, but I'm the king. What is it worth if I can't do what I want?"

"Okay, let's do what you say, King Anthony," Steven agrees, leaning down for a kiss..

He has the look of a man who - at least right now - will agree to Anthony's every whim. They have not been together all that long, but Anthony definitely knows that it will not be like that often; his Steven is very headstrong.

"Fantastic," Anthony murmurs against Steven's lips, and arches into a kiss.

It sure feels as if he can hope for a happy ever after ending after all.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This story has seen the light for the Captain America - Iron Man BigBang of 2017... but has been in my WIP folders for at least 4 years. It's a bit surreal that it's finally out there! I hope you enjoy... A big thank you to the mods as always!
> 
> The title is a blacksmith motto of sort, by the way. *nods*
> 
> Once more I want to praise the fantastic MassiveSpaceWren for the gorgeous art she did for this story! King Anthony and his Captain are absolutely fabulous and if you think so too, you should go tell her on [tumblr](http://massivespacewren.tumblr.com/post/167967761124/my-art-for-one-of-my-cap-im-big-bangs-2017-the).
> 
> Also, Wren, it's always a joy to be fed by your complete enthusiasm and caplocks flailing when you like a story. Nothing better for the ego! Also thank you Mani for your support as I was working on this, you are awesome. 
> 
> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://gottalovev.tumblr.com/), asks and more are always welcome!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this story, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> <3


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